Getting to good enough

Mehiganl - 5 Sep 16

I recently started going to a personal trainer. Not for vanity reasons you understand. In fact, while I know loads of dad friends who go to the gym, I actually honest to god don’t know ANY mums who go to the gym anymore. As one friend put it, ‘sure if you happen to have some spare time, you’re hardly going to spend it in the gym are you?!’. Yep. Sums it up really.

Anywho. After my son was born six months ago, my back was feeling the effects of feeding, nappy changes, and countless times of bending into the cot. I think most women, particularly having gone through a pregnancy, have an intimate understanding of the workings of their body and I knew this was a result of core muscles that pregnancy had torn apart resulting in my back carrying the weight of my whole self and the babies, and not something that a massage could fix.

So there I was. I first went to a personal trainer when my daughter was about six months old. He did a great job of helping me knit myself back together. I found it frustrating at first – lots of subtle movements without breaking a sweat – but my brilliant PT explained that the muscles needed to be slowly and carefully repaired from the inside out and so I worked hard at it and got to a place that I was happy with by the time it came for me to return to work (and hence discontinue the PT, because seriously, who has the time for anything ‘personal’ with small kids?).

I should mention at this point that I am and always have been a moderate consumer of fitness. I’m not lazy and I have always enjoyed staying active but never at an overly competitive level. I played on the lowest netball team in school and uni but kept it up because I enjoyed the team and social aspect. I practiced Pilates and yoga all through my 20’s; had a fling with Bikram and running, in my early 30s; did pregnancy yoga when relevant and I love a good long brisk walk with the dog. But that’s about the height of it. I’m 36 and an average size 10, with no desire or need to lose any weight and so the place I was happy with was not a washboard stomach or buns of steel but a place where I felt I could hold myself up again, be strong from within and not break if I bent over to pick up my child.

On first assessment, I was apparently stronger, more flexible and better in core strength than I had been after my last pregnancy and so the programme wasn’t as painstakingly slow as before. It even involved some light cardio work, and I was encouraged to find that even after my first week I felt energised, stronger and my muscles starting to work again. Joy! But then one morning I lifted the Baby Bjorn with my 10kg son in it and pulled my back. (*I KNOW of course that this is not recommended but show me a mother who will remove the child to move the bouncer five feet and I’ll show you a liar or someone so sleep deprived that she is absentmindedly doing weird stuff like that).

This put the kibosh on the workout and I was referred to a sports physio. As he watched me hop on one leg he said that I was ‘wobbly’ as a result of weak muscles in my hips and pelvis. This was no real surprise to be honest (but still…. wobbly 🙂 )

Now I am a confident person. I have faced adversity in life but thankfully I have a mental and emotional constitution robust enough to carry it. Beyond the normal angst of teenage years, I have never had any body image issues or social anxieties and can happily walk into a room full of people on my own or address an audience, faking my way comfortably through a topic I know less about than they do.
But here, in this place that I came to fix myself and make myself strong again, I realised that I found the whole thing hugely intimidating. Unable to pull the resistance bands without collapsing onto myself, I felt so weak and feeble. I felt like a complete intruder, a fraud and completely inadequate in this testosterone charged world. Who was I thinking I had any business doing this personal trainer stuff anyway? And the sports physio? Who am I kidding?! (Refer to aforementioned ‘moderate’ level of interest in fitness and sport). These guys work with proper athletes. WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!? And thus began the freak out/self-doubt party in my head. (Sidebar: aren’t those ‘head parties’ just the best? You know, no one there to talk to but yourself and your tormenting thoughts? Glorious).

But then my robust emotional safety-net rolled out just in time to remind me that I GREW A PERSON. Two people actually. My body did the most incredible thing to produce two mini-versions of me and that involved a whole lot of muscles stretching, pulling and voluntarily relaxing over the course of ten long months each time. If an athlete went through the same physical trauma, they would have significant and seriously considered rehab before returning to training. And so I decided to look at myself as an athlete and give my body the respect it deserves for essentially having competed (and won gold) in the Olympics. Twice.

I may not have form on track or field, but my birthing prowess kicks the shit out of the weaknesses that I am feeling right now. Despite all the insecurities flying around my head I am strong, capable and, having gone through a 14 hour labour, I know I have a stamina and endurance that would challenge the World’s Strongest Man in a pole pushing contest (replace ‘pole’ with ‘baby out of a vagina’). I’m also (and I have to keep reminding myself of this every minute of every day) an incredible mum, which takes lots of personal training with yourself, and mental and emotional rehab and recovery on those days that aren’t so good.

I know I’m not the only mum (or person for that matter) that has ever thought ‘I’m not good enough’ at some point or another (as it relates to work/figure/being a friend/mother/wife/lover) but it was a big deal for me to admit to myself what was intimidating me. Becoming a mother empowered me in so many ways (particularly in those hours after birth – boooyahh!) but it also made me question myself in ways that I hadn’t before.

I’ve learned that confidence as a mother is a destination. Getting to ‘good enough’ is a hard but worthwhile journey and one that we will likely take many times over the course of this life. So when the self-doubt takes the wheel, stay calm, remind yourself of your superpower, roll-up your sleeves and DO IT! Because regardless of what you think, you’re good enough, you’re worthy enough, you’re great.

Mehiganl

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