At My Smallest, I Was My Sickest

I want to talk about something that can feel a little controversial in the pregnancy and postpartum space.

I’m going to talk about my body.

Because for me, my body tells a story that the scale never could.

I actually loved my body during pregnancy.

I loved the bump.
I loved dressing it.
I loved watching my body expand to grow my baby.
I loved having boobs.
I loved feeling powerful in what my body was capable of.

There was something awe-inspiring about watching it change with purpose.

And in those early postpartum weeks, my body continued to shift — and I was okay with that. Of course it was different. I had grown life.

But around three months postpartum, everything changed.

The exhaustion caught up with me.
Then the postnatal depression.
Then the extreme anxiety.

I became completely depleted.

And my body reflected that depletion.

I lost 14 kilos in under three months. For someone as petite as I am, that was significant. I dropped to the lowest weight I’ve ever been.

From the outside, it probably looked like I had “bounced back.”

But inside, I was running on empty.

My nervous system was dysregulated.
My mind was foggy and fearful.
My body felt fragile.

I was the smallest I had ever been — and the most unwell I had ever been.

And that’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

Sometimes weight loss is not wellness.
Sometimes “bouncing back” is actually burnout.
Sometimes the version that looks leaner is the version that is surviving, not thriving.

Starting the right medication changed everything for me.

It didn’t just help improve my mood and mental clarity — it helped stabilise me. It gave me back my footing. And one of the side effects was weight gain.

I’ve gained 10 kilos back.

And this is the part that feels important to say:

I am stronger now than I have ever been.

Part of that strength is because of my weight.

We go on two big walks every day — my son, my husband, our dog and I.
I carry my son constantly.
I lift him in and out of the car.
I rock him.
I hold him.

My arms have grown serious muscle.
I have more energy than I’ve had in years.
And most importantly, I now have reserves.

Reserves to handle broken sleep.
Reserves to regulate my emotions.
Reserves to show up with patience.
Reserves to live.

At my smallest, I was my sickest.

At this weight, I am my strongest.
My clearest of mind.
My most stable.
My most grounded.

And that is the version of me my son gets.

This season taught me something I will carry for life:

It’s not about how you look.
It’s not about what the scale says.
It’s about how you feel.

It’s about energy.
It’s about mental clarity.
It’s about strength.
It’s about having enough in your tank to live fully.

If you are feeling self-conscious about your body’s changes — postpartum or otherwise — I gently encourage you to zoom out.

Ask yourself:

How do I feel in my body?
Do I have energy?
Do I feel strong?
Do I feel mentally well?

Because the number on the scale cannot measure resilience.
It cannot measure stability.
It cannot measure joy.
It cannot measure presence.

And presence is what matters most.