An Open Letter to My Future Pregnant Self (Just in Case)

This is a new post in conclusion of losing my baby weight! There are so many things I could say about this. I could give you 10 Tips for Shedding Those Baby Pounds. I could write about How Great It Feels or How the Holidays Might Bring Them Back. But I think the most honest thing I can do is share this letter I wrote to my future self, should I ever decide to get pregnant again. We’re about 50/50 on that, depending entirely on the day you ask me and the number of tears in our house that hour. But just in case, I think Future Me would find these words helpful. Love you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

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Dearest Pregnant Self,

For real?! You’re knocked up again?! Good Lord. You’re crazy, you know that? Ha ha, JK, I’m sure you’re ecstatic in between wretched puke sessions and lectures on weight gain from our OB.

But okay, then. If this is real, and you guys went for that third kid, you must have really wanted it. You prayed and hashed out and evaluated and knew this was God’s perfect plan. Or maybe it was a surprise! I hear big surprises can happen to responsible people.

Or maybe you even miscarried again before this pregnancy. And if you did, I am so sorry, Self. I doubt saying good-bye to an angel baby is any easier the second time, or the third or the fourth or the fifth. God’s ways are not our ways, and sometimes it just plain sucks.

That’s not what I want to talk to you about, though. I’m here to discuss your rapidly changing body. It’s happening—again. And I know that you’re gritting your teeth, cursing the coming lack of cheek bones and gruesome cankles; that you already try not to cry sometimes because you just gain the pounds so fast. You shout, “Three times is NOT a charm, guys!” You are puffy and nauseous, downing the bagels. You envy the basketball-belly pregnancy goddesses popping up suddenly everywhere. Your body is not your own; it belongs to another human. Take a deep breath, dear Me, and remember to take your Zofran.

You’re not going to want to hear this, but sit down (slowly) because I’m telling you anyway. Self, listen: This is going to pass. Not next week or next month, but soon enough, you’ll blink, and this will be in the rearview mirror. Right now, I am our normal, pre-baby weight. I did it! We have a facial structure and jeans with buttons and muscle tone trying to surface! I lost the 55 pounds. And you will, too. Stick to the Weight Watchers program for breastfeeding women, exercise as much as you can, and go on long walk/talks with girlfriends. The weight loss plan totally works. It’s your mind I’m a little more worried about.

Is it possible that you’ll listen to me now when I tell you to enjoy this pregnancy, almost certainly your very last one? Will you at least savor the donuts and burgers, as long as you’re eating them to survive? It’s such a short time, in the scheme of things. It’s a sacrifice you’d make a million times. I look at baby Hadley, and little lady Emerson, and think often about how worth it the misery was. How they need us to model womanhood and priorities. How God is teaching Pregnant You something important. A-g-a-i-n.

We’ve always struggled with our body image. Everyone’s got their main vice. But I’m here to tell you that today, this day, this moment, somehow, I’ve never felt better. At 30, two babies later, I feel more confident, strong and womanly than ever before. I eat nourishing food that tastes great. I indulge cravings in moderation. I work out to be strong for my girls, not skinny for my bikini. God is hearing my prayers, Self! He’s healing me, slowly, from the shallow distraction of body obsession. I’m climbing out of the rabbit hole, thanks to the help of His rope.

But no doubt, you are slipping again, and I understand. Those numbers on the scale are hard to take. I’d tell you to just stop looking, but I know that you won’t. So instead, get down on those swollen knees, Self! Say your prayers faithfully, daily, hourly in the extra-hard weeks. Jesus loves us so much. He’s totally got our backs, through our absolute thickest and thinnest. He won’t slow the time or the pounds, but He will show us light in the darkness. Beauty from brokenness is His specialty.

And I have another secret for you, girlfriend, which I implore you to try to remember. Losing all of the baby weight feels wonderful, rewarding, empowering even. But “having your body back” is not everything. Body hate occupied so much of your mind for so long, and from this side, it feels like a shame. Eat the cake. Rub your belly. Marvel at the beautiful miracle. Rise up from your self-loathing and sadness. Because you know what? Once the weight of the weight has been officially lifted, your mind will attempt to wander down all kinds of other lame rabbit holes.

I heard a great quote recently: “God knows your sin and calls you by your name. The enemy knows your name and calls you by your sin.”

So true. In fact, I think the enemy calls and calls and calls until he finds a new name that will stick; I constantly have to shoo him away. We’re no longer obsessed with losing X number of pounds, but our forehead is totally crinkling. Let’s go spend ALL our money on Botox. Babies have sure sucked the life out of these sad little milk-makers. A boob job will surely curb every bit of longing and disappointment we’d ever experience otherwise. Our house is so adorable and incredible. But wouldn’t a bigger, fancier one be so nice? When one struggle turns into strength, the enemy howls in defeat for a second, then looks for another and shoots.

Calm down, Future Rapidly Aging Me, calm down: I’m totally not saying that thinness and Botox and implants and nice homes are the devil. But be careful, because sometimes, for you, they might be. Look deeply at your heart and be honest about the root of your longings and motivations. What voids are you attempting to fill, and what should you pour into them instead of all the pretty things that won’t nourish? We are humans here on this earth, so we’ll never be right at home. But cling tightly to the truth, Self, that God can do such a better job of filling your empty soul spaces. Point your heart in the right direction: upward, always. And remember that you do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body. Somebody wonderful said that. No one’s exactly sure who. Also, “There is nothing more boring or fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round.” Cheryl Strayed; she is so wise.

So, Steph. We’ve got this. You’ve got this. But above all, most significantly, God’s got this. With His help and His love and His mercy, you will emerge from the other side of yet another impossible pregnancy, and you will be better and stronger than ever before. We get waterlogged and curvaceous and distressed and uncomfortable and they always think we’re going to get preeclampsia but somehow we never do. This is just how we bear babies. And the beautiful thing? God knew we could handle it.

Three times might not be a charm.

But maybe it can be our best rodeo.