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Showing posts with label Body Image. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Body Image. Show all posts

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Clench, hold and release

Ben's birth was blessedly straight forward & quick enough. After four hours of active labour & a second degree tear, our 7lb 6oz first son arrived. There are so many cherished memories from the days following his birth, but there is one that really stands out personally. Still now, ten years later, I can recall every sensation & the emotions that whipped through me at the time.


Ben was just over twenty four hours old & I was slowly wheeling him along in his clear plastic, hospital issue bassinet - feeling a little tender with stitches located where stitches had never been before. We had just been for a visit to the common room & I was making our way back to our private room, anticipating the arrival of lunch (& with any luck a little nap for the both of us). I had just passed by the nurses station & half way down the corridor, still another few rooms to go yet until our own, when suddenly the urge to pee came upon me with no prior warning.

Urgently. 

Really urgently.

The shock of trying to clench those bruised, battered & swollen pelvic floor muscles, only to find that they didn't really feel like clenching much at all has haunted me through every birth that has followed over the last ten years. It is one time I genuinely feared I was going to wet myself, in public, & not just a little bit either. 

I knew the importance of doing kegels during pregnancy & in the weeks & months following birth. I'd read the little snippets of real life experiences that were included in the articles of keeping your pelvic floor tight 'n high, written in by women who found out the hard way just how necessary it was to clench - pull it all in without pulling a face. 
With tips including, but not limited too, 'If you're doing the dishes or hanging out the washing, do your pelvic floors as well.'
Or, 'When you sit to feed the baby work those muscles at the same time - clench, release & repeat.'


Some how I mostly kept my bodily fluids within my body & high tailed it in a waddling, thigh clenched gait as fast as I could while pushing Ben along, still oblivious in his bassinet back to our room. That afternoon I resumed the clench, hold, release & repeat. Just a few at a time, enough to gently locate them & check they were still in potential working order, then slowly increasing the intensity over the following days & weeks. That call to nature was just far too close for comfort...& too far from a lavatory. 

Seventeen months later & half way through Rianan's pregnancy I joined a pregnancy exercise class run by a physiotherapist. Several times through each session she would run us through our pelvic floor exercises - advocating passionately just how important it really was to do them. Beginning as soon as we felt able to, while lying down to avoid putting too much extra pressure on our vagina's that had just gone a round in the boxing ring with a three kilo battering ram - or so it may seem. 


Rianan's birth was just as good as her older brother - a water birth, just under four hours & another slight second degree tear after coming out all in the one contraction. In the wee hours of the morning as dawn illuminated the clouds, I laid on my side while gazing at our daughter, memorising her five hours old newness, & began the first gentle clenches of those hidden muscles. This time, when nature screamed a waterfall was coming, I wouldn't be caught blindsided. 

After having more than the standard quota of pregnancies & births, I know how crucial it is to keep my pelvic floor stronger than my biceps. Especially if I want my bladder to stay where it belongs, along with it's contents, while taking Ben & Jack on in a round of soccer, chasing Blake & Will around in a game of chasey or joining Rianan in a display of kart-wheels & handstands. Though they aren't as easy as it was twenty odd years ago...


Over the last ten years I'm certain I've done more kegels than I have changed nappies. They've paid off though - especially after suffering morning sickness with Clay & hugging the toilet bowl every morning, or more recently finding myself succumbing to the sneezes of hay fever. 

If you are quietly suffering incontinence, no matter how mild or severe, go & see a physiotherapist who specialises in pelvic floor. Ignoring the matter won't fix anything. 

How many times have you clenched, held & released so far today? 

Monday, September 29, 2014

I don't want your Buns, or your Anaconda

At the risk of sounding old, or if not old then like an over concerned parent, what is with the excessive sexualizing of (most, not all) music today? Seriously, it is everywhere. I can't listen to mainstream radio without having to change between stations at least once while driving with the kids in the car.

Case in point - Anaconda. Unless you've been hibernating then you'll probably know the song I'm talking about. I can't decide what is worse, the video clip or the lyrics - D*ck bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's - yep, this is what's reaching the top 20 charts. The video clip is 
like a train wreck you can't look away from. Unless you're in our house. Then it would be a moot point as it wouldn't even be on at all. 

There's a love hate relationship building between 'New Thang' & I. It's catchy, I like it, but I hate the lyrics too & the message it's portraying, even if our kids may not understand what it means at their ages. Insinuating sex on the first date 'cos he's a player; bounce that ass so fast to make it clap (inspired from the Anaconda video clip perhaps?). 

My name ain't Santa, but she sittin' on my lap, yo........No.

No where is safe these days, despite our intentions at home the older kids still know the lyrics to songs that we don't give any attention to. I'm under no illusions that as our kids get older we can't continue to monitor the overtly sexual film clips with the barely there skimpy outfits & women fawning all over men, who ignore everything about them except their ass or breasts. Video clip shows would be more aptly named 'GaGa goes bondage' or 'Minaj-a-trios'. The greater majority of the content is soft porn any way so why not have the title match the content. 


What message is this sending to boys? That a woman (or, I hate to say it, a girl) is only worth your time of day if she has a DD cup, or a tight perky ass that can jiggle better than Homer Simpson's belly? What thoughts are young girls taking away - that they should dress in a provocative, flirty way to be noticed? Because a personality doesn't rate above a bra size. This isn't helped any with clothing stores pretty much reinforcing that message with the range of girls summer clothes available. Ass cheek skimming shorts, midriff baring tops, skirts barely long enough to cover their underwear.

What happened? When I was younger it was all about East 17, Take That & Girlfriend. Baggy pants, hats with over sized flowers & wearing overalls with one side un-hooked. No ass cheeks bouncing higher than a kid in a bouncy castle. When a midriff meant an inch of exposed skin, not breasts all but bare save a scrap of faux leather to cover the nipple.

Is it just me being to prudish? Should I have more faith in Ben & Rianan to know that what they {would be} watching or listening to is an excessive & purely hyped up manufactured image, based around unrealistic appearances, depicted to be lacking in morals & propped up with sex appeal. 


Because I'm watching these video clips & seeing all to clearly how it would be easy for unhealthy & distorted body image issues to develop, unrealistic expectations surrounding relationships & sexual behaviour begin to form. To feed their self worth from their appearance, rather than 'who' they are. 

Will the values & morals of our parenting withstand & override the manufactured glitz & glamour, the grinding dance moves & lusty looks the media keeps churning out?     

What do you think, are we being to protective by not allowing them to watch the overtly sexual video clips or listen to them either? What do you allow when it comes to mainstream music that potentially crosses the line from entertainment to inappropriate for children of a certain age? What is that age to you?

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Everything, nothing & a birthday

I've been struggling to write this week. Two posts were started, kinda got halfway, then shoved back to the drafts folder. Just not flowin'.

I was rambling on about food, I'm not going to go into details because it may re-appear one day. So it remains relegated to the background, it seems I'm always waffling (ha, see what I did there? Boom tish.) on about food here. I figure you're all probably thinking "Yeah, we get it already." 

Then there was some thoughts about body image, largely because there is so much of it on the net at the moment, particularly around the comments from one stupid arsed male. Doubt his personal training business is going to take off any time soon. Everyone else already has it covered, so much better than I ever could articulate via keyboard. Plus I'm not a mainstream popular blogger, so it felt as if I was just echoing their sentiments. We'll just leave it as he is a douche & all mother's are beautiful exactly as they are, five minutes after giving birth or five years. Rounding up on a quote from Milena Katz "It would be better to concentrate on self worth. What you are like as a mother is more important than how you look in a size 10 top." 

Inspiration crept up when I was thinking back & comparing how I felt being a first time mum (like a fish out of water) to this time round being a sixth time mum. How I took on the words & advice of 'experts' from parenting magazines (& supermarket aisles, baby books & child & youth health nurses at the local community center) as Gospel & near drove myself cuckoo. But I wasn't entirely sure what point I was trying to make, or if I was just letting my own past insecurities out of the closet. For now that closet door can stay shut on that post.

So that was my week of introspection that ran around in what head space was available & not absorbed with other generic minion raising thoughts. Beyond that our life has been normal - full of food, noise, social lives & washing.

In exciting news, Will turned three. 



This happy, vivacious, adorable, cheeky, milo-moustached minion has graduated from the terrible two's & is now stretching his wings in the terrifying three's. Or terrific three's, depending on his erratic three year old moods & whether he's allowed another bowl of yogurt or not.

This little guy is so happy he walks around with a grin on his face 98% of the time. He makes my teeth hurt with his sweetness & my heart burst with love, wonder & pride. We created this awesome little guy, helped him grow from a squishy faced little newborn to a trike riding, slippery dipping, running, jumping, climbing, car br'mming little boy. No longer a baby, now a fully fledged little boy.










Where did the time go. 

Sob.






** Yes, there is only two candles on Will's third birthday cake. No excuse other than not only do we get confused with their names, but also the candles required on their cakes. Another perk of being in a large family - the parents don't even know how to count candles let alone kids.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Earning your stripes

I remember a few weeks after Ben's birth that the scales showed I was back to my normal weight. What I remember the most is how my body had changed. For the better.

The flat, taut stomach was upgraded to a soft, nurturing belly. The pale breasts evolved to provide nourishment & comfort. The bright & bag less eyes softened to a more tired yet life filled gentle glow.

Six times over. 


I have looked in the mirror many times in the days, weeks & months after each of our babies have been born, & been thankful for the changes I can see. In awe of all that my body has achieved.

There is no way I would trade all the little signs that give proof to the lives this body helped to create, to have back the body of my 17 year old self.

My arms may not be slender & graceful, but they are more than capable of calming a distressed child, carrying a gurgling little baby, providing a safe haven for an emotional daughter & a sense of security of an insecure son.

My legs may not be slender & toned, but they are more than capable of chasing a toddler before he reaches the road, kicking around a soccer ball with a soccer-crazy boy, playing hide & seek with an energetic four year old.

My belly may be a mere glory of its former self. But there is nowhere more comfortable for my husband to rest his head at night together on the couch. There is no where more ideal for a greatly anticipated baby to grow healthy & strong.

I have gained silvery stretch marks. I have gained spider veins. I have replaced muscle for curves. I have gained an incredible amount of self awareness & self confidence. I have gained more emotion than I know what to do with at times. I have gained more love than my heart feels like it can contain, yet it doesn't burst but just grows & grows. I have gained six little bodies to tuck into bed at night.

There is nothing I have lost, as I have gained so much more than I could have ever wished for or dreamed possible.

I love my silver stripes, even if my hair is falling out