Why I never took many photographs with my son

Sitting here and thinking back to when I had my first baby, I remember easing into motherhood with so much joy. But that joy was short-lived when I went into postpartum depression as I got laid off right after I had my son. The timing could not be any better.

Being a new mother and not knowing what the hell I was doing, and having a baby who was colicky also did not help. I was exhausted, and there were times I wanted to run away from everything. I was battling low self-esteem, depression and loneliness. The weight kept creeping on, and that brought me down even more. I never wanted to be in any photographs, but loved taking photographs of my newborn son. I took thousands of photographs during the first three to four years of his life, and still do. But I was hardly in any of them. I hated my appearance, and it did not help matters when my side of the family kept reminding me on how I need to lose the weight. They told me how I would look pretty if I lost the weight. Ugh!!! I wanted to scream at everyone. Even when I visited India, I was told by the shopkeepers that I was too fat, and they did not have anything for me. Everyone had this image that being thin makes one beautiful. A very brief background about me: I never used to be a big girl, I was into sports and was always fit. I remember being told that I was too thin and needed to put on weight. No one seemed satisfied with how I looked. I was never bothered about what people thought about me back then, so why was it bothering me now.

The weight came on after my two pregnancies in one year, sending my hormones into a tailspin. I did not care about myself as I was too busy taking care of my baby. When my son was about three or so, I was going through his baby year photographs and realized how I was not part of most of the pictures. I casually mentioned this to my mother in law, and a couple of sister in laws. They told me that when I am much older, and when my son was older too, he would probably ask me why I was never in any of his memories. They encouraged me to be in the pictures with him. That took about seven to eight months, and I finally started to feel comfortable in my skin.

Though the comments never stopped on how fat I was, but by now I had grown a thick hide. I was confident about myself, and the people kept talking but I did not care. My son is now eight, and I absolutely love being in photographs with him, making goofy faces and being silly. I know I will be able to look back on these days with a lot of happiness and pride. I am still not “thin”, but that is okay. Who said we need to be thin to feel beautiful? I love the way I look and feel now. I have never been more confident in my life, and most importantly I am the most beautiful woman to my little man. What more can I ask for.