When Life Hands You A Dual Action Breast Pump

Make milk, right? Just like squeezing lemons to make lemonade. I know, ew, right? Welcome to my reality. Breastfeeding. I’m now getting an image of my mother cringing. She’s particularly private about these matters. Me? Obviously, not. 

And when it’s 3am and a hungry newborn is testing the sheer capacity of his newfound lungs? Thank goodness for breast milk and the boobs that are squeezed to make it. 

We’re 9 months in, ladies and gentlemen, and my little babe is still alive!

Hallelujah.

And mostly in part to this fantastically versatile rack. Excuse my French.

I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.

A woman’s body can not only grow and birth a child, but it can also feed one. What a mind-blowing thing.

So I’m not quite sure why I waste so much time being overly sensitive and self-conscious about this new bod I now have. 

Let me be real here for a sec. I have purchased nothing short of seven pairs of jeans since having my son. I’ve returned five of those pairs for a new pair and one of those new pairs for ANOTHER new pair. 

Here’s what I’m saying—I don’t understand my body at this point. It’s a weird shape and size. I don’t know how to dress it, how to feed it as much as it needs, how to regulate it’s hormones or even what to do with these tiny new hairs that have sprouted in the front of my scalp—ahem, fun stuff. 

Post pregnancy has got me like—um, hello, when will I see Ashley again? Cause it’s been 9 months and there’s no sign of the pre-pregnancy bod. 

I’ve asked around about this.

Some mamas will say, “Oh wait until you’re done breastfeeding, then you’ll feel like yourself again.” Others will say, “Get used to your new self.” And then there’s the annoying ones who say, “I’m way skinnier now than I was before having a baby.” Well la de da to that. 

So here I am, tired of feeling negative about my body and letting bitterness seep in. I take my index finger and point it at society.

Excuse me, society, how can you make moms feel bad about their new bodies? Your beauty marketing, social media and endless weight loss gimmicks have got us moms feeling glum. 

Do you not realize that these bodies grow and sustain human beings? 

I’m convinced that my post pregnancy body should be a trophy. Well done, Ashley, you made it through carrying delivering and caring for a human being! Now look at that body to prove it. Gold star, blue ribbon! 

In the Bible, specifically the Old Testament, women were valued for their ability to make children. Not that it was a perfect system, but I’m sure they didn’t spend nearly as much time as we do stressing about getting back to “pre baby weight.” They probably swung their post-birthing hips with pride instead.

Maybe they even (gasp) wore clothing that showed off their post pregnancy tummies. For that specific reason—to tell the world they made a baby! 

Hallelujah and congratulations.

I want to feel this way about my body.

The truth is that I have a beautiful son who was crafted by the God of the universe in my womb and I have nothing to be ashamed of, not the flab around my middle, the bags under my eyes or the weird little hairs on my scalp.

I’m a mom! I’ve been a lucky lady, privy to something truly miraculous and beautiful. But the mirror doesn’t remind me of that truth. And neither does society.

It’s up to me to choose to feel beautiful and to be proud of what my body has done. It’s up to me to choose to believe the truth that I find in the Bible about how God created me and how my identity and value is placed in him. 

Cause those seven pairs of jeans are fickle friends. One moment fitting great, the next not so much. 

And that’s ok, cause my jeans don’t represent my worth anyway.