the olympic sport of buying jeans postpartum

If you can't relate, at least you can laugh

Feb 11, 2025

I looked in the mirror, and sighed….

“Lord, this isn’t what I thought you meant when you said ‘Behold, I make all things new.’”

But guess what? Being a new Mom means you get a new bod. That’s right, for free! No need to sign up for some crazy program to change what you look like —you can just grow a human inside you and once they are born, you will have a whole new shape. Caterpillar—butterfly metamorphosis is going on over here.

Ok, well, maybe it feels more like a butterfly to a caterpillar.

But don't worry, you don't have time to dwell on such thoughts. This isn't 2015, back when you had time on Saturday to spend the whole day moping and watching rom-coms after being tagged in a terrible photo of yourself on Facebook.

All this is coming from someone who has been approximately six different sizes over the past three years.

Pre-pregnancy, first pregnancy, first postpartum, in-between, second pregnancy and second postpartum.

I feel like I have single-handedly kept the local thrift stores afloat with my need for a whole new wardrobe every few months.

I understand why so many mothers exist in sweat pants.

Yes, there is something very beautiful and mysteriously feminine about our constantly changing bodies and how they bring life into the world.

But dang,

trying to find jeans that fit postpartum is an Olympic sport.

Picture this:

a new mother, feeling the weight of a baby puke coloured world, finds the time and energy to get out of the house. This of course only occurs once she has ordered a few pairs of jeans online only to find that they do not fit at all. Or in my case, learns the true meaning of wide leg. I DIDN’T KNOW WIDE LEG MEANT THAT THE LEGS WOULD EACH BE A PARACHUTE. My kind and forward-thinking best friend told me I could pull the jeans off, while both our husbands watched in horror as I, for one second, contemplated keeping them.

Anyways, back to the Olympic sport.

First, the mother must drink a minimum of two cups of coffee to even talk herself into something as crazy as leaving the house. Then, she has to feed, burp, and change ~~herself~~ the baby. Take into account the minimum 20-foot walk to the car, carrying a purse, a diaper bag, a car seat and another thermos of coffee.

Next, there’s the big decision— do you go to the Mall and risk having to see a bazillion teeny-tiny mannequins and their unattainable jean bods, and overspend by $50? Take into account that your new jeans will likely only fit for three days or so, when all of a sudden, they will feel huge and baggy.

Do you go to the thrift store and risk having to try on 20+ pairs of jeans and perhaps walk out with nothing? The bright side is you might get a decent pair of pants for $2.

Whichever way you choose, you will inevitably end up in a changeroom with many pairs of jeans that are NOWHERE near your size. You will also likely have to breastfeed in said changeroom. Now, it takes a strong woman to try on twenty pairs of jeans without breaking down. Usually, I require my two sisters to be my overly blunt cheerleaders. Add my Mom as well, whose favorite word is “flattering.”

Of course, those kind of supports are likely watching the toddler(s) while the postpartum Mom jean shops.

So yes, you have to face the merciless mirrors alone, peeling pair after pair of ill-fitting jeans off your new bod.

Finally, you may find one pair that actually makes you feel human again. Highwaisted enough to tuck all the extra into, and not too tight.

You triumphantly head home, wearing the new jeans right out of the store.

A day of victory.

You arrive home, feeling confident once again.

You are greeted by a feral cherub toddler who grabs onto you with the fierce love and need that only a two-year-old possesses. When you are finally released from said embrace, you see that his hands are covered in bright purple jelly, which is now all over your victory jeans.

You feel like crying, yelling, laughing, howling.

You sit down and take a deep breath. They are just jeans. You will be okay. You are beautiful, new bod and all.

Jeans will come and jeans will go — the truth remains. Your body is a gift.

searching for shalom

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