I started corelating my body with my worth at about six or seven years old. Comments from peers opened my eyes to the harsh reality that society places a higher value on bodies that look a certain way. I learned quickly that if I wanted to avoid judgement, feel accepted, or be seen as worthy of love and affection, then I had to do my best to keep my body contained in the mold of what the vast majority deemed as “beautiful.”
I grew up competitive figure skating from four years old to thirteen and when I quit, my body went from pre-pubescent athlete to young woman overnight; boobs, hips, belly, face all grew and softened.
It was like suddenly, I was noticed where before, I was just another kid. Boys at school spoke to me. Adults made comments in front of me like “She’s only 13? Uh oh, dad. Better get the shotgun out!” but I also noticed that majority of girls my age still sported the tiny, frail, girlish figures and I felt like an outsider in my curvy, softer, more developed body.
Throughout my adolescence, I had tried every diet under the sun and the body based comments only amplified with time. My junior year boyfriend’s comment after I expressed my dissatisfaction with my weight was “then why don’t you get off your ass and do something about it? You’re always complaining, but you don’t do anything about it.” I asked my college boyfriend if he’d still love me if I gained weight after having kids to which he said “well… I wouldn’t be able to be happy in a relationship if my partner didn’t at least try to be ‘healthy.’” Healthy, I learned, was synonymous with skinny/ thin for countless people.
My (ex) husband knew from day one I was terrified of what having kids would do to my body. When I booked my dream job in the stunt show at Disney, those fears amplified tenfold because not only was the threat of unexpectedly getting pregnant very real now, but I wouldn’t just be losing my body. I’d be losing my dream role and who knew if I’d even be able to come back to it afterwards? I hear people all the time talk about how they could no longer do a lot of the things they used to before kids and their stories terrified me. Sure, a lot of people go back to what they considered “normal,” but the threat of “what if I can’t?” was enough to send me into panic. Telling him my fears ended in him wanting a divorce.
When my relationship to my best friend transitioned from strictly platonic to our romantic involvement in fall of 2024, those fears didn’t go anywhere. I knew he wanted kids just as bad as my ex, however –as much as he hoped to be a father one day, he always vocalized his priority of finding the right woman to build a beautiful marriage with. Kids were an ideal goal versus grounds for divorce whereas my ex didn’t want the marriage if kids were not a part of it. Over the course of our friendship, I saw him date plenty of women who existed in a variety of body types and seeing him be genuinely attracted to each of them disintegrated one of the many layers of fears I had around pregnancy and my body. And listen – I’m the farthest thing from an advocate of letting our body image be determined by a man (or anyone else for that matter,) but my point is that after spending my entire life with men who never seemed to understand my fears around my body and pregnancy, or contributed to exacerbating them, it was really refreshing to be with someone who I was positive could care less if I got fat. When that day of finding out I was pregnant DID come in March of 2025, I was SO unbelievably excited.
My dream job at Disney closed on April fifth of 2025. On that day, I was seven weeks pregnant and in hindsight, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Getting kicked in the stomach and falling to the ground six times a day four days a week wasn’t something I was going to be able to continue doing anyways and we all knew our show was on borrowed time due to an expansion in the park. As soon as April sixth came though, the mental battle for my body began.
As an athlete, I was so used to a routine of constant, high intensity movement: our walk into work was one mile from cars to venue. Our show was a cardio burst for five minutes straight, six times a day. As a cast, we all worked out doing weight training, plyometrics, and cardio on our lunch. Another one mile walk out to our cars meant we had a long day of constant calorie burn. On my days off, my day always started with minimum of an hour at the gym, lifting heavy, doing cardio, practicing martial arts or gymnastics, and training to maintain my athletic form and abilities. Throughout my time with this show, I was constantly (and effortlessly) in the best shape of my life. My body image was up and down because of my past with eating disorders and body dysmorphia, but overall – I had a great deal of self-confidence in my outer appearance.
Like most pregnant people, my first trimester came with a lot of nausea and inability to do much besides lay down or sometimes go for a short walk. Being in the gym wasn’t really feasible until closer to my second trimester and even then, so much of my “normal” had to be adjusted to the little life budding inside of me. No more pre-workout. No more lifting belts. No more max lifts. No more HIIT. No more crazy core workouts. All things I enjoyed doing daily. The instant drop in activity mixed with being pregnant meant I started gaining weight FAST. This is where the hardest part came into play: letting it happen. My son is healthy and growing right on track because I had/have to ease up. I still get in the gym, but it’s nowhere near what I want to be doing. I’m trying my damndest to prioritize movement, but I feel heavy, sluggish, unmotivated and often times – incredibly self-conscious. Some days, getting to the gym and doing what feels like a lackluster workout compared to what I’m used to makes my mind spiral with thoughts like “what’s the point?” Staying consistent and changing my motives for working out has been the biggest mental game I’ve ever played. I miss my old body terribly. Every day, she changes a little more and I don’t recognize her, but I don’t want to be mean to her either.
This season of my life has been the most difficult when it comes to my body image and my lifelong struggle with eating disorders because it’s no longer just about me. In the past, there was this unhealthy nagging voice that would often say “this may not be the healthiest way to go about this, but at least you’ll be fit/ thin/ lean” or whatever fucked up word that filled in that blank to make me feel better. Now, my actions directly affect the little human who happens to be the creation of me and my very best friend. Maybe it’s maternal instinct. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t want to hurt my son. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t want to hurt my best friend’s son. Regardless, something in me knows I don’t have a choice; my body, my abilities, and my choices have to change.
I got to a point a few weeks ago where I accepted that I’m going to be huge for a while. Somehow, facing that lifelong fear is helping me see the light. Like exposure therapy, the larger I get with each passing day, the more I’m forced to sit in the discomfort of watching my fears around my body come to life. Now that I’m here, (as much as I resent admitting it) it’s not as diabolical as I thought it’d be. So, now my focus is reframing my thought patterns. I can’t control this RIGHT now, but I WILL have opportunity to be an athlete again. I’m counting on it not looking like what I’d ideally like it to, but I AM staying positive in remembering: this is just a season. I won’t be pregnant forever. I won’t be limited like this forever. I’m leaning on my Fiancé a lot during this entire process because finding sources of support, encouragement, and love are the only way we get through the hellish landscape of body changes that pregnancy brings. I went from being in what I would consider my peak physical form, to not being able to get up a flight of stairs without heart palpitations and getting out of breath.
And THAT’s. OKAY.
The oxford definition of lose is “…to become unable to find something or someone.” There is something heartbreaking and liberating about coming to terms with “losing” our bodies to pregnancy. Some of us lose what we had in ability, image, texture, feeling, and confidence. What I see behind that though, is we very much HAVE the ability to find her again. What’s “lost” doesn’t have to stay lost, but that means we must be willing to be open minded and resourceful on the search to discovering her new form. We lose what he had as the Maiden, but we gain the embodiment of the central goddess.
She’s soft and full. Her skin shows evidence of ferrying life from the spirit realm into this earthly one. She is literally the source of nourishment before, during, and after this journey for the growing being she’s creating. It’s insane to me what pregnancy does to our bodies (in both good and not so hot ways) but the journey to the other side sucks so much more if we only hang onto the most negative parts.
Sure. I lost the body I had before. My belly has stretched. My boobs have sagged. My nipples have darkened and expanded. My thighs have more dimples. My hips feel huge. My muscles are covered with soft, new layers of fat. My face has rounded and my abilities aren’t what they were before, but in losing anything, I gain something in return – even if it’s just space for something new.
Seeing this transformation as “Losing” my body to pregnancy is in fact heartbreaking because the only thing worth mentioning that I’ve truly lost is touch with her. After a long journey of clinical rehab from Bulimia Nervosa, years of therapy working on my body image, and trying to connect my self-worth to more than just my outward appearance, I’ve worked so hard for so long to build a new relationship to my body based in respect, appreciation, and acceptance. Pregnancy has absolutely challenged those forward steps, but maybe this is my reminder that she’s still here – enduring this ride with me just like she always has. Every change, every moment of adaptation, every challenge – she’s been there carrying the weight of it all (literally and metaphorically.) Her strength is not of this world and we’re so quick to tear her down the second her appearance changes or doesn’t comply with what we’ve been taught to believe is beautiful. If we can do anything kind for ourselves during pregnancy, it’s showing the magnificent machines that are our bodies love, respect, and appreciation for everything they’re going through. It’s not easy and frankly – miserable at points, but two things can be true: beauty and struggle can coexist. Transformation and grief can both be themes of this journey to motherhood. At the end of the day, it’s US who determines the way we approach this path filled with both challenges and divine metamorphosis.
As we leave the Maiden archetype behind, the Mother is here with open, nurturing arms, inviting us into this new chapter of life with a softness that’s unlike anything in this world. As scary as it can be, I’m choosing to embrace her and learn from her and I invite anyone open to growth and renewal to join me. We are worth infinitely more than conforming to society’s mold of womanhood, motherhood, and what defines beauty. Step into Divine femininity and feel the power of The Mother: creative, nurturing, devoted, selfless, mature, and fulfilled.
