While I was pregnant with twins, I loved my body for what it contained. During the day I'd watch for hours as the silhouettes of my sons squirmed and shifted beneath my skin; at night I would sleep with my palm over my belly, feeling their tiny movements through my dreams. When I caught a glimpse of my shape in the mirror, I'd stare at my changing figure in awe, see my breasts grow, my skin tighten and stretch over my uterus, see the trails of blue veins appear, bringing blood and nutrients to my sons.
However, I did not have such an easy time postpartum. Almost immediately, the body I had been so proud of during pregnancy turned into a source of shame. I began to feel waves of anxiety and embarrassment about my size and shape, feelings I hadn't experienced for almost two decades.