Words by Amanda Jackson
Becoming a mother can dramatically alter the way a woman connects to her body and the way others relate to her body – this is especially evident during pregnancy.
As a Motherhood and Matrescence Coach, many of the women I work with reflect on how the relationship with their body changed during pregnancy. They talk about how their body suddenly felt as though it belonged not only to them, but also to their baby, their partner, their family and care providers would remind them of all the things they should and shouldn’t be doing. For many women, pregnancy marks a profound shift in their bodily autonomy and individual identity.
I know when I was pregnant the first time, I can remember feeling both excited and somewhat awkward about checkups. I liked learning about how my baby was growing and the reassurance that everything was progressing well. But I was also acutely aware of how dramatically pregnancy altered the number of people accessing my body, I noticed the new ways my body was spoken about and how its appearance and performance were assessed. It felt as though my body was seen, but I was not.
What’s most interesting to me is that I’m not alone in my experience. It’s not uncommon for women to notice that the way others relate to their body changes as they become mothers. It’s not uncommon for mothers to disclose that they feel judged as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ mothers based on their body’s performance and decisions they make about their body.
What’s important for mothers to know is that when making decisions that involve our body, we can find ourselves influenced by our social conditioning. Young girls are often socialised to acquiesce to authority and prioritise the needs of others, this can prime us to do the same thing as mothers. The ‘good’ mother myth entrenches this ideal further by telling us that if we want the best for our child, in pregnancy, birth and beyond, we should unquestioningly follow expert advice, check our dignity at the door and submit to whatever is necessary.
Given the sheer number of decisions to be made during pregnancy and birthing it can feel as if our body, our child’s well-being, and the perception of us as a ‘good’ mother is constantly in jeopardy.
But, the truth is, whether a woman chooses to undergo any kind of procedure, test or examination, it has little to do with her qualities and abilities as a mother. It’s more aptly a reflection of how safe she feels, her experience of trauma, her instinct, her intellectual curiosity, who she considers an expert, and her desire to protect her body, her child.
Mothers may also experience a psychic or an inner conflict when it comes to check-ups, procedures and examinations. This discomfort, in part, arises from a collision between the social narratives we’ve internalised as girls and those we’ve learnt as mothers.
As girls, we are taught that although our body is valued for its beauty and desirability, it must remain untouched, covered and private. As mothers, our bodies are suddenly subjected to being inspected, touched, shaved, cut, measured, weighed, poked and prodded sometimes by several people at once. As girls, ‘good’ means keeping our body protected and hidden, as mothers, ‘good’ means lying back and spreading our legs. The stark difference is impossible to ignore – and we feel it deeply.
The pressure of expectations surrounding the female body; to be accessible, appealing but coveted, feminine, fertile and functional serves to disconnect us from our body – and from the power and infinite wisdom our body possesses.
No one tells us this, but becoming a mother is one of the greatest opportunities to redefine the social relationships others have with our body and – to renegotiate the relationship we have with our body – and to reclaim it for ourselves.
Reclaiming sovereignty of our body is a process. It’s a combination of learning to honour, trust and listen to our bodies so we can advocate for ourselves. It’s about exploring what it means to live in our body and it’s about reconnecting with our body so we can experience it, free from societal expectations.
Matrescence gifts us the latitude to begin experiencing, perceiving and valuing our body in a whole new way.
When society truly recognises a woman’s bodily sovereignty, it will seek to understand how trauma, social conditioning, the myths of motherhood, shifting identity boundaries and mutuality influence a woman’s maternal experiences and the relationship she has with her body. It means the whole gloriously complex woman will be seen, not just her body.
