Viviana Bayran (26), Giorgio (2.5), and Román (9 months-pictured)
Mexico | Nashville, TN
Viviana shares -
“I had an extremely rough time seeing my body change when I was pregnant with my first son. I specifically remember one prenatal appointment, I was weighed and when that scale hit 200 - I broke down in tears. I didn’t take well to not being in full control of my body, that was the heaviest I had ever been. I hated the dark purple stretch marks and I put layers of different lotions and creams to stop them from appearing- yet they kept on. I know I wasn’t healthy, and I wasn’t happy with my body.
Sure, I was proud it was growing a human but I didn’t dig how my face was basically a ball. I didn’t even take many pictures while I was pregnant because that’s how uncomfortable I was. With my second son I hit 206lbs and when he was born I was determined to be healthy. I want to live long to see my kids have kids and grandkids . I don’t want to have the heart disease and diabetes that runs in my family, I don’t want to be another Hispanic statistic and I certainly don’t want my kids to be one either. So I got my shit together. I started exercising and eating a mostly plant based diet. I feel good ! I’m still flabby and I still have stretch marks and I’m completely okay with that because I’m healthy! And I love my body for what it’s done and what it is now. Mission accomplished.
With my first son, postpartum anxiety was my middle name . I didn’t even want to step out of my house to check the mailbox, and at night I would think of all the possible scenarios that could happen and what I would do to save my baby and dogs (husband was usually at work). I was terrified all the time, I snapped at everyone but the baby, I cried easily at nothing. I thought something was wrong with me. I spent the first 6 months of my baby’s life obsessing about the smallest things that I don’t even remember anymore. It ate me alive .
Slowly, I got out of that phase and then at 15 months I got pregnant with my second son. This time I was determined to have that perfect sweet postpartum peaceful period that we all see in diaper commercials . I mean, I knew what I was doing this time around right? Wrong. Postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression hit me hard. It’s been 9 months and I finally feel like I sort of know what I’m doing but still there’s days that I fight myself with every fiber of my being to just keep my shit together. Postpartum has been the hardest period of my life.
I’m a POC and a DACA recipient. I have struggled through “ma’am do you need a translator” when people see my name even though I was literally just speaking English to them . It’s been hard to fight for my rights through both births and for my choices during birth and postpartum. It’s been extremely hard to just be healthy physically because I didn’t know how to eat healthy- Mexican food is comfort and tradition and you just eat. And it’s hard to tell your mom you don’t want a plate of tradition. And it’s been even harder to be mentally healthy because the system {America’s medical system} isn’t built to help me.”