You know what’s annoying? People who act like being pregnant is equivalent to taking a shot of euphoria as they walk amongst the lilies and meadows.

“Oh my gawww… It’s the most amazing feeling in the universe. I just can’t wait to meet this perfect bundle of joy in person.”

That was never my reality. No, I do not take my children or the ability to have them for granted. The process just leaves much to be desired.

Pregnancy is only cool until about the five-month mark for me. Then, reality (and the pounds) set in.

With every pregnancy, I packed on a good 40 to 45 pounds. I had hyperpigmentation in random places, my nostrils were in a race to see which one could touch my cheeks first, my feet were swollen, and I could barely breath.

I was lucky to be walking at eight months. That was actually around the time I’d start using the motorized carts at every store. (I would get the craziest looks, too, because apparently I didn’t look worthy enough for that kind of assistance. Beep beep!)

So, by the time delivery is about to occur, you can imagine how over it I am. And even more frustrating is the thought of your aftermath body. I would say postpartum body, but aftermath is a more appropriate adjective for what I’ve witnessed.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I remember being naïve about “body after baby.”

“Okay. I’ve gained 45 pounds. The baby and his gunk will take away like 15. Then, I’m sure there’s extra water or something. That’s another five or so. That’ll leave 25 pounds to go. I’m sure there’s other fluid in me, too, so that’s another five down. And then, I’ll nurse for like a month and be back to five pounds lower than pre-pregnancy.”

Why would I think breastfeeding would be my magical solution? Because people lie.

Every person I had asked about pregnancy said to breastfeed because it’s good for the baby, and it melts the fat off of you. They were living proof. I could see the results with my own eyes.

Well, I very quickly realized that my body was different. Just my luck.

After giving birth, I was disgusted at what I saw. What used to be my stomach was now a deflated pile of dough, my legs were tree trunks, and my arms could give Popeye a run for his money. 💪🏾

“It’s okay. I’m just swollen. Snapback comes in the morning.” 

After being released from the hospital and sweating out some of the extra fluid, I still wasn’t near my goal. I wasn’t crazy enough to step on a scale and see, but my mirror told me everything I needed to know.

“Snapback’s just hiding. It’s all good. Just show yourself by the time I have to go back to work in a couple months.”

Six weeks prior to going back to work, I realized that my body wasn’t having it. I should have known. I was nursing and pumping (which was a good thing), but my clothes weren’t fitting any better. I had to step it up. 🏃🏾‍♀️

I went to my six weeks postpartum appointment, and my doctor cleared me to exercise.

“Booo! I don’t need that mess. Breastfeeding is my exercise. Ummm… Snapback, any time now!”

Well, Snapback never arrived. No call. No show. I had to *gulp* work much harder than previously thought.

I downloaded a fitness app on my phone, bought some decent-sized dumbbells, and paid $7.99 at Wal-Mart for Jillian Michaels to become my arch nemesis. After Jillian’s 30-day program, I met my buddy Shaun T who taught me that he could see through my television and notice every time I cheat on a workout.

Eventually, by the time I returned to work, I was… decent. I wasn’t five pounds pre-pregnancy, but I could hide the extra 10 to 15 pounds of fluff with the right clothing.

Weeks later, I realized that I hit a plateau. No matter what I did, that extra poundage was not letting me go. 🤗

“Forget you, Snapback! I didn’t want your little funky tail anyways!”

Has anyone ever said that to you? It’s the typical teenage mall dialogue. Boy sees girl. Boy tries to get girl’s number. Girl politely rejects. Boy lashes out and informs girl that she was never good enough for him anyways.

That’s how salty I was feeling about Snapback.

“How could she diss me? She came through for everyone else. Man, see… that’s why I don’t even trust people.”

But then something strange happened around nine months postpartum. I stopped nursing and decided that I’d have to give in and shop for new clothes, since I was making my current ones burst at the seams.

A few days before the shopping trip, I tried on some of my old clothes to determine what my new size would be.

“Wait… this fits now. And this shirt’s buttons aren’t about to pop off anymore. I can zip my pants all the way up and still breathe! I knew Jesus was still in the miracle working business!” 

Although He is, what I later came to realize is that I’m in the smaller percentage of women who lose weight after they stop breastfeeding. My body holds on to the extra pounds as a reserve and only lets it go when it knows I no longer need the extra fat to produce milk.

How thoughtful…

The same thing happened after I had my other two children as well. I gained the pounds, I looked like the Michelin man right after giving birth, I shrank a bit to become the Pillsbury doughboy, I exercised and ate right to minimal avail, then I got back to my usual-ish size after nursing.

As annoying as it is, it really does take nine months to add on the pounds and nine months to take it off. So, this notion of a snapback is all smoke and mirrors for me. Some people really do have great genes to get right back where they were before pregnancy.

Others are either a few sizes bigger for a while (like myself) or are wearing two pairs of Spanx and a waist trainer to fool people into thinking their snapback is strong.

Who cares about a snapback! Wear clothes that are flattering to your new body shape and work your way back to your previous body (if you even want to) in due time.

In this week’s podcast, I explain more about the different myths I’ve heard about “the snapback” and the crazy things people do to get their body back after having a kid. Don’t be these people. HAHA! See you then!