I have come to the realisation that no amount of healthy eating, exercise and sleep will turn my post-baby body back to exactly the way it was before having kids.
Don't get me wrong, this isn’t about wanting to lose kilos. It’s about the way my body simply looks and feels, well, different. Waist is thicker. Tummy squishier. Boobs less perky. Okay, much less perky. A little pouch of excess skin on my lower tummy. Stretchmarks. Scars. Dark circles under my eyes that no miracle concealer can hide... you get the picture?
And don’t get me started on the changes you can’t see from the outside - and I'm not only referring to the sheer exhaustion that comes with motherhood - let's just say star jumps are not my exercise of choice these days!
I can’t help but occassionally peer in the mirror and feel a pang of loss for the body I once had. It's gone, baby, gone.
But the one thing that snaps me out of these negative thoughts is the evidence of my body’s amazing ability - my children.
This saggier, softer, stripier body of mine has created, grown and nurtured my babies.
It has fed them when they're hungry. It has rocked them to sleep. It has pushed their prams up the steepest hills. It has held their hands. It has chased them in the park. It has picked them up when they've fallen over...
And through all the years of exhaustion, it has still been strong enough to play and hug and talk and listen and laugh when they have needed me most. And I wouldn't change that for the world.
Oh, and I never did like doing star jumps much anyway...