I let nine people watch me give birth – they were all speechless but I felt liberated, it made me so body confident
AS I breathed heavily in my husband’s arms, at least nine sets of eyes had a full view of my body while I sat in a birth pool wearing nothing more than a sports bra.
Giving birth to my third child, I agreed to let five students — in addition to a midwife, my husband, and my parents on Facetime — observe me in this very vulnerable moment, something I couldn’t have imagined years before.
The body positivity movement has garnered the attention of women around the globe who desperately want acceptance — and yes, I was one of them.
From trendy diets, hour-long Tik Tok-worthy skincare routines, and waist trainers that will suck the life out of you — if you have seen it, I’ve probably tried it.
Despite the efforts of this movement, filtered photos, carefully angled poses, and edited bodies continue to take over our social media newsfeeds — and I admit, I’ve done it plenty of times.
I was body-shamed for not having note-worthy curves like Beyonce or the voluptuous genes that led to our obsession with plastic surgery.
So here I was, in my early 20s, forcibly poking out what my mama never gave me, hoping to generate likes and approval from an audience who would forget my existence by their next newsfeed scroll.
It wasn’t until seven years ago, when I was in labor during my third pregnancy, that I realized body positivity starts with me.
As I felt like I was splitting in half while I naturally fought through each contraction, my midwife asked if she could invite her med students into my delivery room.
Impressed by my laboring skills, she looked at me and said: “Kimberly, you are doing amazing. Would it be ok if I invite my med students in the room?”
You probably think I would never spread it wide for the world to see and told her: “No way!”
Well, yes way, and without hesitation, I agreed.
After two back-to-back natural deliveries prior to this one, I felt like a purple-heart medal-wearing veteran ready for battle.
At this point, I could take on anything because fear had officially left the building, and my body had already proven how powerful it was before.
Within minutes, my quiet delivery room turned into a classroom with at least five students staring at my bare body.
Each student walked into the room wearing a permanent smile, exuding nervous excitement while anxiously preparing to witness their first live childbirth.
In between contractions, we’d make eye contact that was complemented by reassuring words of encouragement: “You got this,” “You were so made for this,” “Wow, she is amazing.”
Eagerly standing in my room, we represented beauty in its natural form without an ounce of makeup, fake eyelashes, or selfie-worthy attire.
As I took off each layer of clothing, preparing to bring life into the world, I could feel the insecurities about my appearance quickly slip away.
I didn’t worry about the harsh judgment I’d receive or their thoughts about my body.
I wasn’t as concerned about my disproportionate curves or my nose, which had recently doubled in size as much as I was just a week ago.
I didn’t care about the pregnancy acne I’d cover up before posting with too much lighting and overly saturated filters.
I wasn’t concerned if anyone would pick me apart until nothing was left.
I was too focused on the mission and massively in tune with the present moment, carefully monitoring each stage of labor as it rapidly progressed.
Admittedly, the intensity of the pain increased my disconnection from the world around me.
I probably wouldn’t have cared if Oprah decided to show up with a team of cameras for a feature on The Masterclass.
You probably think I would never spread it wide for the world to see and told her: “No way!” Well, yes way, and without hesitation, I agreed.
I felt powerful, called, liberated, and, most importantly, free.
The girl who was called “too skinny” suddenly had hips wide enough to deliver a baby safely and naturally for the third time.
The girl with acne-prone skin that required good lighting and concealer suddenly had skin strong enough to carry a full-term baby.
The girl, whose legs were called sticks, could stand tall, completely nude, while pushing with the help of gravity.
If you’re wondering, yes, I gave birth while standing.
After sitting in a birthing pool for about thirty minutes, supported by my adoring husband, I could feel my contractions getting stronger.
My baby girl’s head was finally making its way further down the birth canal, and after months of research, I decided that gravity would offer me the best assistance.
As I got up, I could sense the hesitancy in the room, wondering if I’d finally gone mad or if my calm demeanor was a temporary act.
I saw random tremoring hands reaching out, ready to assist me from the birthing pool to the bed.
Without giving careful instruction, after I made my way to the bed, which felt like the longest walk ever, I crouched over, using the mattress as my support, and bore down, ready to push.
My midwife got on her knees, ready to catch my baby, and within minutes, her sweet cries filled the room, totaling my delivery time to over an hour and thirty minutes.
Shocked by my speedy delivery, my midwife jokingly informed her students that their short hour in the delivery room was not a typical day for a midwife.
The students, who were still speechless from the entire ordeal, managed to thank me for allowing them to bear witness to one of the most vulnerable moments of my life.
Honestly, I wanted to thank them for being there because I needed them more than they’d ever know.
Years of shouting body-positivity affirmations while staring at myself in the mirror, hoping no one would catch me seemingly talking to myself.
Or the times my friends and I would blast songs about women empowerment while singing like an audition for America’s Got Talent.
I probably wouldn’t have cared if Oprah decided to show up with a team of cameras for a feature on The Masterclass
None of it overpowered the hurling insults we’d hear about our bodies that “missed the mark.”
Overall, my level of comfort in my skin took a lot of emotional work and, apparently, physical pain during hours of labor in a crowded room.
Who knew giving birth to my daughter would also deliver radiating confidence I never thought was possible after years of listening to self-help audiobooks on laundry days?
I began to realize I was enough; in fact, I was more than enough to carry life for nine months, to nourish another body, and shockingly, my small breasts were enough to feed my baby for her entire first year of life.
Since then, I’ve embodied a sense of unfathomable bravery and was proud of my body from all angles.
I spent less time editing photos, less time working on my pose, and retired my filter button, vowing never to look back.
Let’s face it — after three children, who has time for that anyway?
All the work we put into achieving the picture-perfect body feels like a full-time job that doesn’t pay much.
So, I quit and didn’t give a two-week notice or write a resignation letter.
I proudly shifted jobs for a fulfilling life as a wife, mother, content creator, and gateway for future generations.
Some may falsely assume that my sudden transformation was due to the intensity of birthing pain that can naturally lead to psychological disassociation.
But something happened that day, changing my life forever, which gave birth to my daughter and a version of me that I’ve always aspired to be.
I was able to experience life beyond fear while remaining present and comfortable in my skin.
My past insecurities were let go with the clothing on the floor that once hid my false perception of beauty.
Fast forward to today, as I prepare for the birth of baby number five, I’ve decided to extend an invitation to my labor and delivery room once again.
Making a conscious decision without pain or requests from my current midwife.
Sure, I’m 30 pounds heavier than I was seven years ago, I’ve accumulated more stretch marks than I could count, and my breasts look like they’ve seen better days.
Nevertheless, I am in love with the body I was given; I’m mesmerized by all the things it can do, and you should too.
As we witness our modern-day sex icons melt away their plastic surgery and Botox, it’s time for us to melt away our debilitating insecurities.
So, in the words of Taylor Swift, shake it off, and let’s redefine beauty together.
I want nothing more than to share my newfound courage and hope it continues to spread like wildfire.