Motherhood changes a lot of things. While most of it involves a lot less sleep, a lot more poop and insurmountable joy, there’s one thing motherhood changes that almost every woman struggles with—the mom bod.
Whether it’s excess skin, excess weight or just tiger stripes where things were once was flat and smooth, motherhood changes our bodies. Though it’s done something incredible—grow a baby from the inside-out, and provide every nutrient they could ever need to get them started strong—women have a tendency to find shame in their new skin rather than empowerment.
That’s where Kara Lawler was with her body after becoming a mother. But her perspective changed one day with a trip to the waterpark.
Kara Lawler
In a post called “To the Mom at the Water Park,” the “Mothering the Divide” blogger writes about a 90-degree day when she and her husband decided to take their kids to the water park.
Her daughter had been born just a year before, and feeling “embarrassed” in her own skin, Kara made a conscious effort to cover up her “squishy” body as best as possible. Forgoing her swimsuit, she opted for a tank top and skirt.
It didn’t help that the waitress at the restaurant where her family ate dinner the night before referred to Kara as “big-boned” in their conversations.
“That server’s words—the words of another mother, no less—rang in my mind as I stood choosing what to wear this afternoon. I’m a person trying not to be at war with her body, and I’ve been doing well, but her words were like a match, lighting a new fire of self-doubt—and I felt consumed by it.”
Silently fighting herself internally, Kara looked up at the splash pad to see another mother—one who unknowingly would help her overcome the mental battle she was facing.
To the mother at the water park she writes:
“I saw you there today at the water park. I saw you there, in your navy blue and turquoise bathing suit, with your small boys, running and playing with them. I saw you stand under that giant bucket of water with them. I saw you play in the fountains of water, tossing your head in laughter. I saw you, not caring at all about what anyone thought. And I admired you and felt ashamed and stupid for being in my skirt and tank top, sitting on the sidelines, while my husband played with our kids. My husband had even come to tell me that I should hear my small daughter squealing as she played in the water.”
That was all it took. The confidence of another mother—not one who looked like she had it all together, or one who had a perfect body herself. But a mom whose joy radiated out of her, and made all of her own imperfections invisible. Watching the mom at the water park run around with her two sons made Kara recognize the true weight of what she’d been carrying. And in that moment, she let go of it.