Motherhood has certainly been a turning point for how I perceive my body. I have shared in a previous post how I struggled with overstimulation and body image after giving birth. At the same time, becoming a mother has triggered a positive process that slowly grew within me until I was ready to flip the script.

Society wires women to have a negative relationship with their body. Since girlhood we dwell in shame. Our body becomes the target of unwanted attentions as soon as we enter puberty and society’s expectation is that it’s our sole responsibility to preserve or defend it. We are taught that our period is something disgusting that should be hidden, a curse; even tampons commercials use the message of setting us free from our cycle. We are expected to look perfect according to standards we didn’t establish, no matter the cost for our well-being: from high heels to make up, from anti-ageing products to even surgery.

In other words, we are taught our body isn’t ours to enjoy. We are taught our body is meant to serve and please others regardless of what we want. We are taught that it is a liability and our vulnerability.

Personally, all this baggage piled up over the years contributed to my intolerance towards my body and its natural functions. My body was never enough – enough slim, enough curvy, enough beautiful, enough sexy – until it suddenly was too much – too exposed, too provocative. How could I feel good inside my skin? Then my children came and they needed it. They used it and frankly, they were the only ones who had a good reason and a right to do so. But I was done. I desperately wanted to own and be in control of my body for once in my life. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pretty. But I have now learned that big changes always come with a storm. I can see now how motherhood – in both the shapes I have been blessed with – gave me a chance to regain control of my body for the first time.

The first sign of this transformation came when I realised I didn’t need to obsessively remove my body hair. Mind you, I was extremely self-conscious about that. If I would spot one single hair on my leg, I would choose not to wear a skirt or go to the pool. The new life situation when my daughter was born sent this madness to the bottom of the priority list. I spent the first months of her life struggling to fulfil my basic needs, definitely not at the top of my looks, and something had to give. But hey… I didn’t die! My husband didn’t find me any less attractive! And would I really skip the baby swim class because I hadn’t had the time to wax? No way. New set of priorities, first step towards body liberation.

Another speck of enlightenment came in my sexual life, another chapter that postpartum had rocked not for the better. It took me years, but at some point I decided that I had a right to my own pleasure. I deserved it. My body had gone through a lot and deserved to be treated right. My pleasure in intimacy started climbing to the top of the priority list. Not that my partner had denied me anything, it was truly my fault: I didn’t have the courage to ask. For the first time I caressed the idea, what if my pleasure becomes the rule and not the exception?

Slowly, step by step, I realised how powerful my body is. It created, grew, and carried a human being. It healed afterwards. It fed a baby. It is a source of comfort for my children, capable of soothing their deepest fears and even their physical pain. Indeed, my body is also made for serving others, but not in the way the world had led me to believe. Not as a sexual object, but as a force of creation and a source of love. Shifting into this perspective motivated me to take better care of myself. I started listening carefully, I am learning to understand my body’s language. I try to keep it healthy and strong. I have learned to respect it. Finally, I have claimed my body back.