Am I Less of a Mother?

I do not look like a mummy.

It seems like such a very silly thing to be concerned about when you think of all we've been through: the frightening pregnancy, the emergency birth, the weeks of tiny Tiger fighting to grow and be strong, the breastfeeding issues, the illness ...

The fact that I do not look like a conventional mother? It seems ridiculous that it even enters my consciousness. But it's true and it does and, for some reason it breaks my heart a little bit.

I am thin. Not emaciated thin, but definitely "gee, you're so tiny" thin. So thin that the office lady at my old school (where I went this week to conduct workshops), commented, "You still look exactly the same as you did when you were thirteen. Still a string bean".

So thin that, when Tiger was still new and very small, people would often say, "No wonder she's so small. Look at you!"

That hurt. Because I already felt as if my body had failed Tiger. And now it was as if all these comments confirmed it.

Later, I was so thin that a so-called "breastfeeding expert" commented that the reason Tiger and I were struggling to feed was because I didn't have "adequate fat stores".

And yesterday, a well-meaning and lovely stranger said, "She's such a big baby! I would have thought she'd be tiny, considering the size of you. You don't look like you've had a baby at all! You don't look like a mother".

And even though I knew she didn't mean anything bad by it, that comment stung as well.

Because being a mother is all I want to be. And I want to look like one.

I put on nearly twenty kilograms in the thirty two weeks I was pregnant. I loved it. I loved feeling - for the first time in my life - "womanly".

A week after Tiger was born, ten kilograms were gone.

And now, another five and, despite trying as hard as I can to "maintain my fat stores", I am now nearly as small as before I fell pregnant. And I no longer look "womanly".

I am, in Husband Bear's words, back to being a "runt".

And yes, I know it's stupid to care. And yes, I know Tiger doesn't care at all what I look like, so neither should I. And yes, I also know that now I'm not breastfeeding any more the weight might creep back on. 

I hope it does.

And it's not something I think about every day - really only when it's brought back to my attention by a passing comment - but it is always there, hovering in the back of my mind: 

I am less of a mother because I look this way.

And, worse, I will be a bad role model for Tiger if I continue to look this way. Because what if she sees me and thinks she should be thin too? What if she thinks this is an ideal?

I'm going to try not to think of it. I'm going to try, instead, to concentrate solely on my Tiger. I am going to watch her as she obsessively blows big, gloopy, noisy bubbles and I am going to remember that what I look like doesn't make me the mother I am. And it's not all about me. 

It's about her.

And she, literally, couldn't care less what Mummy looks like, as long as she's smiling.

And smiling I do often. How could I not, when I have a little girl who is so unfailingly lovely?

~ Love, Miss Cackle