06/12/2026
An ode to my body. Or maybe an ode to women’s bodies.
I’m 9 weeks postpartum, and my body still doesn’t look the way I wish it did.
The other day I found myself scrolling Instagram and comparing myself to moms who had babies around the same time I did. Some even later. Their bodies looked slimmer, more toned, more like the version of myself I keep wishing I could get back to.
And I cried.
At first I thought I was crying because of my body.
But the truth is, I think I was grieving something much bigger.
I grieve my life before IVF. Before years of waiting, hormones, injections, appointments, hope, and disappointment. Before my body became something I constantly analyzed and worried about.
I would do it all again for my son. He’s healthy, he’s here, and I love him more than words can express.
But I’ve learned that gratitude and grief can exist at the same time.
This postpartum experience feels very different from my first pregnancy. I’ve never been in this body before. Some days I don’t quite recognize myself in the mirror.
What makes it harder is the world we live in. We’re constantly shown women who seem to bounce back effortlessly. We celebrate shrinking bodies, but rarely celebrate the bodies that are still healing.
Through photography, I meet so many incredible women, and one thing I’ve noticed is how many of us struggle to see ourselves with kindness. So many women immediately point out everything they don’t like about themselves before I even take a photo.
It makes me wonder what would happen if we looked at our bodies differently.
Not for how they look.
But for what they’ve carried us through.
My body carried me through IVF.
My body carried my son.
My body brought him into the world.
My body is still carrying me every day.
So today I’m trying to offer it a little more grace.
Not because acceptance comes easily.
But because after everything it has done for me, it deserves kindness.
And maybe yours does too. 🤍
