When my body fails.

Like many people, I’ve had a tumultuous relationship with my weight throughout my life. Over time I have been every size from a four, up to a fourteen – and back again. More than once. Some changes have been positive and empowering, others frustrating and defeating.

And then I encountered postpartum anxiety. The constant panic attack, fight-or-flight, roller coaster feeling made me sick to my stomach all the time. Some days I barely felt like I could get out of bed, and eating was definitely the last thing I wanted to do. The pounds started melting off. This is supposed to be everyone’s ideal, right? Except the pounds didn’t stop melting off. People constantly made comments about how great I was looking, but I began to feel out of place in my own body.

Today, I am smaller than I have ever been in my adult life. I weigh twenty pounds less than I did on my wedding day. I haven’t yet wrapped my mind around buying smaller sizes, and I still don’t really feel like myself. My anxiety is better overall, but still a work in progress. The weight loss has slowed, but not totally stopped.

Through it all, though, there has been grace. Even though I feel like my body is failing in a lot of ways, it continues to do what is most important. My nursing baby continues to to grow and develop without needing to supplement at all. I can still lift each of my children (and, let’s be honest, restrain them sometimes). I can still climb trees and carry car seats. Even in my brokenness, God has been good to sustain me. I’m thankful for that grace.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. ~Psalm 73:26

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