MY BODY: THE MARVELLOUS MIRACLE

Midwife Clemmie Hooper lets go of negativity

The change seemed to happen almost overnight. I went from a gangly, flat-chested, gap-toothed pre-teen to a spotty, curvy, hormonal and excited teenager. I longed to start my period, have pubic hair and be able to fill an M&S B cup. Most of all, I wanted to own a body that made me feel like a woman. Although I never fully appreciated what it was capable of, I never felt negative towards my body during these years. Perhaps there were times I abused it – by drinking, smoking, partying and eating kebabs at 3am after leaving night clubs – but I was just enjoying my university years. Body positivity wasn’t something I ever thought about.

When, three months after I qualified as a midwife, I unexpectedly became pregnant, my partner Simon and I were shocked. We had only been together a year. We still wanted to travel and earn some real money; that was all about to shift. Still, I was excited about how my body was going to change. Even in those early weeks, when I felt sick and tired and my boobs swelled, it was all a novelty.

I wanted to protect the little human growing inside me. Though Anya’s birth was, on paper, ‘normal’, I went into shock immediately after she was born. I felt that this baby, my baby, had been expelled from my body with such a force that I had no control over what was about to happen to me. I remember lying on a beanbag, naked, splattered with blood, with this human on my chest searching frantically for my nipple. All I could think was, ‘My body will never feel or look the same again.’ Simon looked shocked, and only said, ‘I can’t believe you just did that.’

I hated how big my boobs looked while I was breastfeeding. They always leaked at the worst times and I never could confidently breastfeed in public. Simon told me I was beautiful, but I was 23 – all

my friends were wearing nice clothes and going to the gym while I wore breastpads and pushed a pram. I felt hugely resentful because I’d lost my identity. I had a saggy stomach, my hair was falling out, my pre-baby clothes didn’t fit and I couldn’t afford to buy new ones. I didn’t even recognise myself when I looked in the mirror.

On top of all of this, no one seemed to talk about the physical and emotional changes you go through as a mother. There was nothing honest online, and Instagram didn’t even exist! So I hid my feelings, and told myself that because we’d chosen to have a baby so young, I had to get on with it and not moan.

Like anything, things got better. I went back to work, we both started earning better money, our sex life returned and I felt like the old me again. After we got married, we went on to have three more kids (Marnie, now seven, and twins Ottilie and Delilah, now two).

During these two pregnancies, my relationship with my body changed again. I started to recognise and accept what I saw in the mirror, even as my hips widened and I gained weight. It was no longer about how I felt about my body or its appearance because, with the twins, I just had to keep them in there long enough so that, if they were born early, they would survive.

So as my bump grew and my hips and back took the strain of carrying almost 11lbs of baby, I thanked my body every day for doing such an incredible job. And when the twins were born at 36 weeks, I sobbed with relief that it had once again done something so miraculous. The experience made me feel in awe of what women’s bodies are capable of.

To say being a midwife and witnessing so many births is a privilege is an understatement. It’s much more than that. Seeing women of all shapes, sizes and ethnicities at their most vulnerable has given me an appreciation for how powerful, raw and beautiful our bodies really are.

Over the years I have wasted many hours wishing I looked like someone else, or thinking that if I were a size 8 or 10 then I’d be happier, more successful, more fulfilled. But the truth is none of those things come from having a more desirable body shape. Passion, happiness and success come from a much deeper place. For me, becoming a mother and growing healthy, beautiful daughters is one of the best things my body has ever achieved. I was able to create something wonderful enough to make me realise that all the imperfections we obsess over are inconsequential by comparison.

But this isn’t just about motherhood. It’s time that as women we started celebrating the marvellous miracles our bodies are, and all the wonderful things that they can do, rather than what they can’t.

I hope that, somehow, showing my body with all its lumps and bumps on social media and trying (or failing) to do up my skinny jeans will encourage just one Red reader to say ‘screw this negativity’ and free themselves from the guilt we sometimes feel about our bodies. Once I started letting go of the cycle of negativity, I freed up a huge space in my head, which was then filled with far happier thoughts. In the words of the phenomenal Gloria Gaynor, ‘I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses.’

We have a joke in our house that we have banned the F word (fat, not fuck – I have a terrible potty mouth!). My daughters often watch me get dressed and I will never let them see me tug at my rolls or sigh if I struggle to do up a pair of jeans. Instead, I want them to see me enjoying clothes and wearing my favourite Mac Ruby Woo bright lipstick. I want them to see a happy, confident mother. Today, age 33, I feel more at peace with what I see in the mirror. Of course, it’s too easy to find fault in ourselves because we are all our own worst critics. But I have accepted the stretch marks, the saggy breasts, the added layer across my stomach. They are a reminder that I have grown, pushed out and fed four babies. And that is something I am incredibly proud of.

How To Grow A Baby Journal by Clemmie Hooper (Vermilion, £16.99) is out now

‘OUR BODIES ARE POWERFUL, RAW AND BEAUTIFUL’