One of my closest friends, a yoga teacher, recently said to me: “the cruelest part of pregnancy is how you see yourself.”

At first blush, this sounds pretty harsh, doesn’t it? Of course she told me this after I had once again been on a rant because I found myself comparing my pregnant self to a friend who is about 4 months farther along than me. Needless to say, in my eyes, she is the epitome of what women want to look like during pregnancy: fit, toned, and no sign of being pregnant other than a basketball fastened to her mid section.

Over three years ago, when we started trying to conceive with our first child, I had never considered how my pregnancy would take shape in my body. I must have picked up assumptions and judgments throughout my life about it because I fully assumed I would be having the type of pregnancy my friend was having. My reality was quite different.

I experienced pregnancy sickness (not morning sickness, all-day sickness) starting about week 7. I felt such a lack of control. I ate just to get through the days and stave off nausea. And not my regular diet, oh no. No vegetable or meat made its way into my mouth and I had limited tolerance for fruits. I wanted bread, pasta, or potatoes, which often made me feel worse after I ate them.

I could not keep up my regular fitness regime, mostly due to being sick, but also because I was tired. Normally I practiced power vinyasa yoga in a heated room and I was an avid runner (I ran a marathon the month before I got pregnant). Both were not an option in early pregnancy. I felt bloated and unhappy.

Then there were the “regular” pregnancy changes I was experiencing: lightheadedness, shortness of breath, tight ligaments, acne, excessive burping, mood swings, and constipation. I got a weird rash on my upper thighs and my oral hygienist even told me I was had pregnancy-induced gingivitis! I’m just glad I skated off with these conditions and it wasn’t a lot worse. All the while, everyone told me, don’t fret, all of this is perfectly normal.

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My weight gain, while also in the “normal” range, was frankly freaking me out. It seemed like the last place I started showing was my belly! I added bulk in my arms, back, hips, butt, thighs, and even around my face and neck. Because weight is something so visible, this was the hardest part for me. All of those preconceptions and judgments I had formed came into play every time I looked at myself. Why didn’t I look like the maternity models, the ones with the thin arms and slim hips and a perfectly round belly? Why didn’t I look like my friends, who practiced yoga in sports bras and skin tight pants, proudly sporting their bellies and fat-free bodies?

For context, I was never one of those people who had body issues. I grew up and managed to escape the puberty/teenage years with a good self esteem and body image. I’ve always eaten well and exercised, but that was more of a lifestyle choice; I didn’t do it to look a certain way. I probably went on a handful of diets throughout my life. Sure there were things I wished were different about my body, but I never remember being self conscious or feeling unhappy with my physique. [Note to self: figure out how my parents were able to raise a girl with great body esteem.]

So when I found myself totally and utterly preoccupied with my weight during pregnancy, I was in unchartered territory. When I would voice this to Missus Scooter or my friends, they would only say, “Oh, you’re so silly! You look beautiful.” Don’t get me wrong, this is what they have to say (and probably meant it)! But because I didn’t believe it, it never resonated with me and I always felt patronized. Was I actually experiencing some sort of pregnancy-induced body dysmorphia???

There were also the questions (which were more like statements) from the rest of the world: “awww, isn’t being pregnant the best?” and “don’t you feel amazing?” or “this is the best time of your life isn’t it?” and “I always felt soooo good during my pregnacy, don’t you?” Each time this would happen, it would chip away at my self esteem, making me feel quite guilty that I actually couldn’t relate to those feelings at all. I would smile sweetly and say, “oh yes” in response while inside feeling everything from guilt to shame to rage.

Then came postpartum. Again I found myself caught in the comparison game. I was under the impression I would “bounce right back” since I was breastfeeding. If I am honest, I thought I would shed my baby weight and be looking great in two weeks tops (don’t laugh so hard).

“Comparison is the thief of joy”

– Theodore Roosevelt

All right, all right, as a naturally upbeat person, I feel compelled to put a stop to all this complaining! I think you get the point. At the end of the day, I am grateful for having gone through pregnancy in the way that I did. I have so much more compassion and less judgment for other women and myself. It has been a concrete reminder about the poison of comparison. Having a solid yoga practice in my life, many classes are themed on comparing yourself to others and the fact that the only thing it will bring you is sadness. I thought I got it. Then I got pregnant and started to make peace that I obviously needed some focus here. I have a tendency to “master” something and then move on. Life doesn’t work this way. I have work to do; I always will.

Now that I am pregnant again, I was prepared for the feelings that would come up and I fully expected it would be the same as before. I am giving myself a lot more grace this time around though. It doesn’t mean that I still don’t compare myself to others, I do. And it doesn’t mean that I don’t curse about my back fat, I do. But I was prepared and that has seemed to help quite a lot.

Another one of my dearest friends, also a yoga teacher, gave me this quote:

“Personality begins where comparison leaves off. Be unique. Be memorable. Be confident. Be proud.”

– Shannon L. Alder

I absolutely adore this and try to keep it fresh in my mind as I work through this pregnancy. But how applicable is this quote to…well, everything?? Becoming a parent is the biggest reminder to avoid that tricky comparison pitfall. Instead, just be you.

[Author’s note: I really love posts with pictures, I think they are much more interesting. But I couldn’t find any pictures that I would be happy with posting, given the subject matter. What can I say, I am still a work in progress!]

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How did being pregnant surprise you? Did you find yourself having a different pregnancy than you expected?