Almost 7 years ago I gave birth to two beautiful, identical twin boys. It was not an easy pregnancy. I had gotten so big, so fast, that I developed horrible sciatic pain that lasted almost 8 months. My cute little chunkers continued to grow at such a rapid pace that at around 7 months they cracked apart the front of my rib cage when I sneezed…like a wishbone. If that wasn’t enough, the docs threw me on bed-rest for the last 6 weeks, much of it in the hospital. Of course, because the boys were growing so hearty and healthy,I continued to tell myself (and many people reminded me) that all the pain and suffering was worth it.
At 36 weeks they took me off bed-rest and told me to walk around. Unfortunately, because the twins were putting so much weight on my pelvis floor, it was almost impossible to move my legs without someone giving me a slight nudge from behind. I’m not kidding when I say that people would literally point and shout obscenities my direction when I walked by. (Like I couldn’t hear them!) The last measurement of my waistline before my delivery was 65 inches…the height of an adult person.
When they were born they were both healthy and almost 6 lbs each. It was truly the proudest achievement of my entire life. Immediately, the boys took to breastfeeding like champs; I quickly lost all my pregnancy weight, and then some. However, what they left me were two lifetime badges of honor – one called Twin Skin, and the other Diastasis Recti.
The Truth Set Me Free
TWIN SKIN is the term commonly used for the (twin) postpartum skin that has been stretched passed its ability to re-conform to its original, pre-stretched elasticity. It has lost all its collagen, resulting in saggy, wrinkly, loose-feeling skin usually surrounding the belly button. Think of a balloon. Now blow up that balloon as big as you can without popping it. Let it all out quickly and take a look at what you’ve got. That’s the general idea of what I have been left with for the last 7 years. What’s worse, the more weight I lost the more skin I gained! Often it was so uncomfortable, that when I sat down, folds of skin were literally in my lap.
DIASTASIS RECTI is a vertical separation between the two abdominal muscles that cover the front surface of the belly. Think again of a balloon, but this time it’s one of those long children’s party balloons. Now imagine it is blown up, nestled between the bottom of your breastbone and your belly button. For many, the more you try to “work it” off in the gym, additional damage is done; strain on the muscle causes the size of the “balloon” to increase as well. And yes, I even tried following the Tupler Technique to a “t”, but found it to be useless. After 2-3 years of trying everything, I finally had to admit what several PT’s had been telling me all along: there is no non-surgical correction for muscle laxity this severe.
I know that this is hard to hear, especially if you’re struggling with this condition. People get focused on their boot camp routine, and are hopeful that reaching their fitness goals will alleviate the problem. For some, the issue may not be as severe as my own. But for me, in order to feel truly good about myself, I needed to accept that surgery was my only option. And to be honest, this acceptance set me free. For several years, I felt strong,healthy, fit and able to keep up with my kids, as well as reach my personal fitness goals. I wasn’t fixated on changing anything about my stomach. Basically, I just ignored it’s existence; deep down I knew that one day it would be gone.
The Double Standard
Over the years, I tried to open up to other moms about how disconnected I felt from my battle scars. I’ve talked about how, over time, they have left me feeling less feminine, less like myself, and sometimes even less human (trust me, s**t got weird). Unfortunately, some folks felt the need to compare my feelings of distress I have about my twin pregnancy, and the travesty it has made of my body, to the amount of love I have for my children.
“But, you wouldn’t trade anything in the world for those kids, right?”
“The more you love your kids, every day, the more you will accept this as just a part of being a mom.”
F**k that. I’m sick of feeling ashamed of wanting to look human again. Or feel that, for some reason, I need to be a martyr for my children and wear some sort of “badge of honor” in the shape of flabby skin on an inflated tummy. Of course I accept that this is one prospect that can happen to some moms. That said, I don’t have to love it, and I certainly don’t have to feel like a bad mom for wanting to change it. Sure, my kids are worth every worry-line and sleepless night, every ruined blouse and scratched coffee table, every ache and pain and scream of every second of birthing my darlings. But I AM WORTH SOMETHING as well.
So screw the paradoxical notion that makes moms believe they have to trade being a proud mama for wanting to reconnect with their body. Once I started to listen to my heart without criticism, without judgement, and without fear, I allowed myself to be hopeful of the possibility of change. Thinking about the prospect of ‘wiping the slate clean’ gave me hope, and made me feel happy.
Also, this may blow your mind, but I’m not someone with low self-esteem. I feel good about who I am and even what I look like. I feel even better about what my body has been able to accomplish! I celebrate it! But in all honestly, I also felt I owed it the rehab/repair it deserved, from all the hardship it’s endured.
7 Years Later.
So what was I waiting for?? When the twins were 5, heading off to kindergarten, my husband and I finally decided to have another baby. The pregnancy had minimal complications…wretched back pain, an over-due delivery… but WAY easier than the twins. It did, however, make the diastasis recti worse. The twin skin? Oh, I was tucking it into my tube socks by then! (A slight exaggeration of course, but check out the size of me with only ONE baby in there!)
With our family complete, and once I was done breastfeeding my little dude around 14 months, it was definitely time to do something about this mess.
The first step, finding the right doc, was a piece of cake. My neighbor had experienced the same procedure earlier in the year and she loved her surgeon. At my first consult, I was also pleasantly surprised. I was expecting a car-salesman type white man, with slicked-back hair and big, super bright teeth. Instead, I was greeted by a tall, middle-aged woman with a gentle smile and very nurturing demeanor. She answered all my questions thoroughly (I had a list of THIRTY TWO), and I soon felt confident that I had easily found the best plastic surgeon in town. I was so excited! Then, two days later, her gal sent me my estimated total cost. WOWZA! Are you sure I can’t just do more sit ups??
So let me again remind you that this is only MY STORY. Abdominoplasty might not be for everyone, and I will be the first to admit that its f’n expensive. No, your insurance company won’t pay for it. Trust me, I tried everything. We wrung our hands for quite some time trying to figure out how to obtain the loans possible to pay for the procedure. In the end, I am so happy that we did. Even with my most recent bouts of recovery-induced pain, I have no buyer’s remorse.
I Did It!
This was major surgery, and of course when the time came, I was terrified. I listened to meditations every night leading up to the big day. I tried to stay off the internet, where I was bound to find endless stories of botched jobs and regret. My husband continued to remind me of my courage and the strength in my family’s support of me. I continued to remind myself that I was finally at the end of a long journey that began 7 years ago.
I am now on day 5 of recovery from a 2-part procedure that fixed both problems: abdominal plication (the muscle repair) and abnominoplasty (the tummy tuck). Seeing as I’m not a doctor, and chances are neither are you, we’ll keep the explanation short and simple. 1) She cut my abdomen open, from hip to hip. 2) Pulled and stitched my muscles back together vertically, down the middle of my belly. 3) Cut off all the unsightly loose skin. 4) Pulled the skin tight. 5) Lastly, stitched me back up, from hip to hip.
STILL Worth It?
So, while I’m currently in the “thick of” recovery, now might be a good time to ask… Would I do it again? Absolutely. That said, it’s not for the faint of heart. It is taxing on your wallet, your body, and also your relationships. Over the next several weeks I will be more dependent on others that I am usually comfortable with (as is the case for most mothers, I’m sure).
Recovery is difficult. These past 5 days have not been easy, but every day is 100% better than the one before. While my husband holds down the fort with all three boys at home, I’ve had the luxury of camping out on my mother’s recliner … a poor-(wo)man’s medi-spa if you will. I’ve been told I’ll be on pain meds for at least 2 weeks, and possibly up walking around slowly in the next day or two. The real kicker is the amount of time I will need to resist picking up anything heavier than 10 lbs… 8-10 WEEKS. That means my needy, fussy toddler and I will have to come up with an arrangement that works for the both of us. But I’m confident we’ll get through it.
I knew I wasn’t alone (check out the comments on this photo for example) yet I still think many women feel that they are. Because of this, I thought it was best to go public with my experience and possibly help another mama gain some perspective and a bit of hope. Whatever you decide to do with your torn up tummy, don’t forget to love YOU. Allow yourself the grace to feel good about whatever decisions you make that will ultimately help you become your best self.