I have a mom bod. And it’s dope AF.

At conception, I was scared. During pregnancy, I was confident. Postpartum, I was lost.

I wasn’t exactly prepared for motherhood. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t on my 3-year vision board and I didn’t know what to expect. Actually, I didn’t even think it was easily possible. A few years ago, I had been diagnosed with PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Along with irregular periods and some other side effects, my doctor informed me that infertility might be one of the challenges I’d face. I didn’t really understand how to process that information. I knew I wanted kids, but I was 23 years old at the time, so the idea of children was so remote to me! I dwelled on this information for a few days, and I decided I wouldn’t let it rob me of my future dreams, and I would just cross that bridge when I got to it.  

Fast-forward a couple of years. 

Fourteen days before October 6, 2018 – the day of my dream wedding, that I had spent too much money and time on – during my final wedding dress fitting, I found out I was two months pregnant.

Talk about a wedding crasher!

Like my initial PCOS diagnosis, I really didn’t know how to handle this information. I wasn’t on any form of birth control, so technically I shouldn’t have been that surprised—but remember my doctor said it would be a challenge to get pregnant. And suddenly there I was, unknowingly growing life for two months. 

I was so scared, for many reasons. First, I was planning to fit into a skintight mermaid gown in just a couple of days. Second, I was not prepared!!

Kind of like COVID-19, motherhood just hit me with little opportunity to prepare or plan. Of course not as traumatic, deadly, or devastating, but it really shook my world up in a matter of moments. 

So I did what I do best. I stalled. Like my PCOS diagnosis, I put the pregnancy on my B-list to process after the wedding and I continued with the...

Fun.

Planning.

Decorating.

Excitement.

It truly was the best night of my life. And once it was over, I went from finding out I was pregnant, to actually being pregnant. It finally hit me, and we had barely opened all our wedding gifts. Insert…

Fear.

Another registry to plan.

Nursery decorating.

Stress.

My initial plan was to enjoy the honeymoon stage for at least two years. Travel the world, buy a home, just be “he & I.” But we created something way bigger than we could ever fit on our vision board.

Now, I’m getting scared and nervous. Am I really going to be a mom!? Me!? I’m an awful co-pilot who mixes up their left and right. I am the most forgetful person I know; I loose my phone and wallet at least once a year! I’m also a klutz who has broken Fine China and crystal glassware. And now I have ten months to become a sweet, delicate, and thoughtful woman who can legitimately raise a tiny human? Poor kid I’d think to myself, I hope I don’t ruin them. 

May 22, 2019 - It’s a girl! Isabelle Maria Brammer. 6lbs 10oz. My flesh and blood....in flesh and blood.

I’ve never created anything so amazing and beautiful, at the expense of my own amazement and beauty.

It’s so strange how you give up so much of your life to create life. The moment Izzy was born, my life changed. Truly no amount of money, Lamaze class, or time could prepare me for this. I remember the last few pushes before she fully entered the world. I was so exhausted and drained; I spoke the words “I can’t anymore.” Little did I know how strong I’d actually become. 

From the outside perspective, the most obvious change of my new chapter of motherhood has been my body. I’m naturally short and curvy, and bearing a child added an extra 29 pounds to my already rounded hips, thighs and breasts—none of which I lost during breastfeeding.

Listen, I wouldn’t trade my new temple for any JLo or Beyoncé lookalike, but I do miss my old body. The irony is that my pre-baby body still had its own flaws! Flaws that were a result of too many Tito’s & sodas I drank, and the extra cheese Chipotle bowls I indulged in and yet somehow, I wasn’t as critical of my self-inflicted areas of improvement. I slapped an “oh that’s easy to lose” over everything I didn’t necessarily love, and figured some half-assed Orange Theory or Barre session would eventually fix it.  

But postpartum, when I looked in the mirror, I would be so hard on myself. When I looked at the uneven milk-filled breasts that nurtured Isabelle, I cried. When I looked at the droopy tummy that once housed the placenta that gave Isabelle gestational life, I cried. I looked at my thinning hairline that was a result of my hormonal changes, and I cried. I was so hard on the temple that created the perfect blend of myself, and the man I love most. Why did my fruitful accomplishment of creating healthy life warrant constant criticism? It didn’t. And truly it needed to stop.

My husband is the sweetest. He’s truly in love with every lump, soft spot, and stretch mark on my body. I think he’s lying, because how could he like this?! I often ask him if he’s still attracted to me. He reinforces that he’s more attracted to this body than the 115-pound body he met almost ten years ago. He tells me that when he looks at me, he sees a body that created the most beautiful little eyes he’s ever seen, the sweetest button nose he’s ever seen wrinkle, and the most beautiful dark brown curls! BRB, I’m melting all over again. 

My body created the purest form of love between him and I. How dare I critique it!?

His positive reinforcement has been helpful, but this journey to loving my new physical home has taken a lot of intentional work on my end. 

My sweet Isabelle is almost a year old. And as I start getting teary-eyed thinking about her first birthday, I remind myself how amazing my body is. Who cares if I didn’t “snap back” in 6-weeks? Does it matter if I still have an extra 15-pounds sitting on my hips? Or that I still occasionally wear old maternity pants, which by the way are the comfiest things I own.

A year into motherhood, I’ve accepted that the “Omg, I lost all my weight while breastfeeding!” or “You don’t even look like you had a baby!” isn’t my story. And that’s okay. I’ve also realized that the “snap-back” culture and praising women for not gaining a lot of weight during pregnancy is total bullshit. 

That mindset truly needs to stop. Women make life!! Our organs literally shift around and we house two hearts, two brains, and two souls within our temple.

I’m still a work in progress when it comes to loving and accepting my new body. Sure, I still try to work out and eat healthy, whenever being a wife, mother, and career woman allows me the time. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t look in the mirror and dislike what I see. Could it use some improvement, sure! And I do work to improve it. I make time to workout at least 2-3x a week. Even with limited time, I’ve been intentional about eating healthier and cutting back on quick unhealthy meals, like carbs or takeout. 

In the end, it’s how I talk to myself that has made all the difference. My love for Isabelle spans wider than my hips ever could. My appreciation for my husband hangs deeper than my new breasts. My patience is no longer as thin as my new hairline. And 12-months later I can finally say “I just had a baby” and not feel guilty about it. 

I have a mom bod. And, truly, it’s dope AF.