On our tenth anniversary, I decided to pull out some old pictures of my husband and me to share with our children. It’s important for them to know we were individuals before we became Mom and Dad. One photo in particular makes me chuckle — it’s from our first major vacation together, two years after we met. We spent ten days in Mexico, traveling by bus from Mexico City to La Costa Esmeralda, and then to Oaxaca to meet friends. The photo is printed on inexpensive paper, with the date 9/10/2009 marked in the corner. In it, we’re on the beach in Veracruz, with a photographer wandering around offering to take and print pictures. I wanted a memento of the moment. As the sun set, the golden light made us all look stunning — the waves lapping at our ankles in warm saltwater.
The picture is hilariously overexposed. My face appears shiny like polished metal, while Will’s pale chest is almost transparent, devoid of any definition. We laughed uproariously when we received it, joking that it looked like I was on vacation with a ghost. I eagerly show it to my kids, expecting them to find the humor in it alongside me.
But Noli merely glances at it and asks, “Mom, did you get fat?”
In that moment, I want to vanish into the mattress we’re lying on. I have a fleeting moment to think about how to respond.
“Yes.”
“Yeah, Mom, your belly got real fat,” Ligaya adds. “Yep,” I reply, trying to sound relaxed. “Bodies change; sometimes they become larger or smaller. What really matters is that our bodies keep us alive. I think mine is doing a good job.” I know this is true, but I also realize I’m reminding myself as much as I am them. Can they sense that?
“Mom’s absolutely right,” Will jumps in, and I’m thankful for his support even while I compare my own body unfavorably to his lean frame.
“Yeah, you definitely got fatter,” Noli continues. “But I like your fat belly because it’s squishy and kind of like a pillow.”
I’m torn between feeling embarrassed and finding it oddly comforting. Navigating new emotions with these small beings I created feels like growth, though it’s uncomfortable. I had envisioned a moment like this, hoping I could handle it gracefully.
“Well, my belly has only gotten bigger since I carried you both,” I explain. The truth is, my entire body seems to have expanded over the years, as has my appetite. I still lack full sensation in my lower abdomen due to two C-sections. When I gave birth to Ligaya, I was told it was normal to shake uncontrollably as the meticulous obstetrician removed significant scar tissue from my first surgery before stitching me back together. Over the past decade, the shape of my waist has shifted from a defined curve to something more rectangular, resembling a refrigerator. This area of my body will always feel slightly numb, and I cope with this by trying to ignore it. But my children make me confront it, and they help me see it in a new light.
I glance down at my stomach. Yes, it is indeed fat. But I feel proud of what my body has accomplished. To my kids, fat is merely an adjective; it’s my own judgments that complicate it. Just then, before I can overthink it, they rush to me, showering my stomach with kisses, resting their heads on it, and giggling.
“My only Mom, my squishy Mom,” Noli sings. Ligaya blows raspberries, causing me to laugh and gasp for air. They catch me off guard, pulling me out of my own head. In that moment, I feel grateful to be in this body — soft, scarred, miraculous, confusing, and life-giving.
The original excerpt is from Vital Labor by Mia Jensen. Copyright © 2022 by Mia Jensen. Published by Harper Wave, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission.
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Summary
In a reflective moment, a mother confronts her children’s innocent observations about her body. Through their lighthearted comments, she learns to appreciate her “squishy” tummy and the journey her body has taken through motherhood. This experience serves as a reminder of the importance of self-acceptance and the way children can help reshape our perspectives.