Postpartum Stomachs

 

Ever since I had my first child, my stomach has always felt like it doesn’t belong on my body anymore. The stretch marks are uneven and lumpy in some areas, and my skin sags with a strange elasticity that feels foreign.

That trauma is reflected in the physicality of my drawing process: pulling out uneven, fleshy highlights from the burned surface of soot, scratching aggressively with knives and scrapers which cuts up the surface of the wood. See my process here.

Jen: This is the body I have and I love it. YET, I have these long stripey claw marks all over my midsection from childbirth and weight gained in response to trauma and health issues. It looks like I was attacked by this savage beast we call life. I find it both beautiful and tragic, a testament to both my strengths and weaknesses.
N: My belly carries the memory of carrying two beautiful babies…it will never be the same, and neither will I. Our culture is obsessed with smooth perfection. But life is the opposite of smooth. It’s the opposite of boring. My belly tells a story, and I love it.
Clara: I confess that I hate my stomach. Every time I look in the mirror, all I see is uneven lumps and skin that stretches in this strange, otherworldly way. I’m always touching the skin because I feel like I still can’t believe this is part of me.
T: I’ve had a complicated relationship with my stomach for most of my life. I spent a long time trying to make it be different – flatter, firmer, etc – through dieting or exercise. I think pregnancy was the first time I got to feel comfortable with my belly, because it was now housing this human and my stomach protruding was the way it was supposed to look. I didn’t want to pass on my body insecurities to my kids, so I’ve worked hard to have a more neutral/positive/accepting relationship with it since becoming a parent.
Amaryllis: I was a belly dancer in my youth. I was deeply connected with my stomach, able to make it roll, wave, undulate and vibrate with my muscle control. At 27 I got pregnant with my daughter and gained 42 lbs. I was all belly. I had to have an emergency c-section to save my daughters life. I screamed as they cut me open as they rush. It wasn’t pretty but my baby was safe and healthy. It left me with a big scar, a lot of scar tissue, some stretch marks, and a torn muscle. My stomach doesn’t look or feel the same as it did once, and I do miss that stomach, but she was worth every bit of it.
Clara: On my stomach, it feels like there is an abrupt shift from the “normal” part of my body and where the postpartum folds begin. In my mind, it really does feel like my stomach before birth was ripped off, and then replaced with these saggy folds and lumpy skin. For me this action feels violent and one an aspect of birth I was not prepared for.
Clara: My postpartum stomach feels like it was torn apart, and then thrown together into a haphazard jumble of skin, misshapen lumps, and fleshy pieces. There is no logic to the structure of my stomach anymore, as a form it doesn’t make sense to me. Here there no obvious indication that the image is even a stomach, with fragments torn up and missing.
P: Everyday, when I look down at my body, I am reminded of my traumatic pregnancies; I’m also reminded everyday of the miraculous wonderment of pregnancies and birth when I look at my teenagers’ faces.
G: Before I had children, I was pretty thin. After having two boys, my stomach was never the same. The stretch marks and the deformed shape never went away. I have no regrets regarding my children, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for what toll it would have on my body.