Recently, while running errands, I bumped into a fellow parent, Sarah, whom I hadn’t seen in some time. It was refreshing to have a conversation with another adult. Mid-discussion, I turned to grab something one of my children had dropped, and upon returning to face Sarah, I noticed it—the Stomach Stare.
The Stomach Stare isn’t new to me. After giving birth to six children, my body has undergone significant changes. With a slower metabolism, I’m carrying more weight than I’d prefer. I am aware of how this looks, but the reality of receiving lingering looks at my midsection—especially from friends—never fails to catch me off guard.
I understand the curiosity behind the Stomach Stare. With a large family and a toddler still at home, it’s natural for others to wonder if my stomach is simply a result of motherhood or if there’s another baby on the way. Sarah, being a kind-hearted person, would never want to embarrass me by outright asking if I’m expecting. Instead, she was merely conducting a discreet observation, a practice in which I’ve participated myself.
Still, it’s a bit disheartening to realize that my current appearance might resemble that of someone who is pregnant. In response, my instinct is to pull my stomach in—a futile effort, as my abdominal muscles have essentially given up the fight. This moment of self-awareness often brings a wave of embarrassment, making me feel almost apologetic for not being clearer about my status. It’s a realization that my body may always elicit such stares, as friends and strangers alike ponder whether I’m still expanding my family.
I have a complicated relationship with my stomach. On one hand, it’s large, jiggly, and makes finding clothes a challenge. I can sense the Stomach Stares in various settings, like at church or restaurants, where people count my children and inevitably focus on my belly, trying to assess if we’ve reached our family’s limit.
On the other hand, my stomach has accomplished remarkable things. It was once surgically opened while I was awake to bring two lives into the world, a fact that still astonishes me. This belly has nurtured and housed six individuals, deserving recognition for its contributions. It warrants accolades, awards, and perhaps even a place in history. My protruding, soft belly is a symbol of my journey through motherhood, reminding me daily of the six beautiful beings I’ve brought into the world, each developing into thoughtful and caring individuals.
So, I take a moment to embrace my stomach and acknowledge its significance. I breathe deeply and express gratitude for the role it has played in nurturing my children—serving as their first sanctuary, the place where they felt warmth and safety. I forgive it for spilling over my jeans and causing occasional inconveniences, like when I’m trying to tie my shoes.
And I make a promise: it’s yoga pants from now on, always and forever. For more insights on the topic of home insemination and parenting, explore our related article here.
Summary
This piece reflects on the author’s personal experience with body image after having six children, addressing the societal tendency to scrutinize mothers’ bodies. It celebrates the journey of motherhood while acknowledging the challenges of self-acceptance.