100 Pilates Classes Later: What My Postpartum Body Has Taught Me

This morning I celebrated my 100th reformer Pilates class.

If you had told me a year ago that I would become the kind of person who willingly wakes up before sunrise and actually looks forward to a 6:00 a.m. Pilates class, I probably would have laughed.

Yet here I am, 100 classes later, feeling stronger, more capable, and more connected to my body than I have in years.

What makes this milestone meaningful isn't the number itself. It's what led me here.

When my youngest daughter turned two, I was struggling with significant back pain. After two C-sections, I had lost more strength and stability than I realized. What I didn't understand at the time was how much my body had been compensating. Because my core wasn't doing its job well, my back was doing the work instead.

My physical therapist had encouraged me to try Pilates more times than I can count. And, like many people, I had a reason ready every time.

I don't have time.

It's too expensive.

I won't like it.

I'll start later.

Maybe next month.

Truthfully, I never really found my way back into a consistent workout routine after my first child was born. By the time I felt physically and mentally ready, I was pregnant again. And if you've ever experienced pregnancy nausea, you'll understand why workouts and I were not exactly compatible.

So once again, taking care of myself was pushed aside. Not because I didn't value it, but because it simply wasn't the season of life I was in.

Years passed, and movement became something I would get to "eventually." I think many mothers know exactly what I'm talking about. We become experts at caring for everyone else while quietly placing our own needs at the bottom of the list.

Then my daughter turned three, and I found myself hobbling around from back pain. I was tired of feeling weak. Tired of feeling unstable. Tired of my body hurting when I was simply trying to live my life.

I wanted to pick up my children without pain. I wanted to carry groceries without my back complaining. I wanted to move through my day without feeling fragile.

So I finally decided enough was enough. I committed to trying Pilates.

I started slowly.

I found a studio and instructors who felt aligned with my values—people who focused on movement, strength, and function rather than weight loss. Finding body-neutral professionals felt important to me. This was never about changing how my body looked. It was about helping my body do the things I wanted it to do.

Over time, I gradually increased my classes until I found a routine that worked for my life.

And somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.

I fell in love with it.

As a therapist who spends a lot of time encouraging clients to remain open-minded, I have to admit there is a little irony here. I was pretty convinced Pilates wasn't for me.

Turns out I was wrong.

Thankfully.

One hundred classes later, my back pain is dramatically improved. I am stronger than I was eight and a half months ago. I have more stability. More confidence in my body's abilities. More trust in what my body can do.

And perhaps most importantly, I have discovered a form of movement that genuinely adds joy to my life.

My goal was never to change my body.

My goal was to support it.

To help it feel stronger.

To help it hurt less.

To help it carry me through the life I want to live.

The biggest lesson from these last 100 classes has nothing to do with Pilates.

It's this:

Your body deserves care even when the goal isn't weight loss.

Your accomplishments deserve celebration even when no one else sees them.

And your life is worth filling with things that make you feel strong, capable, connected, and alive.

Whether that's Pilates, gardening, hiking, dancing, painting, therapy, reading, or something else entirely—give yourself permission to pursue what fulfills you.

Take care of yourself.

Celebrate your wins, both big and small.

And don't wait until you're "ready" to start living your life.

Sometimes the thing that changes you most begins with simply deciding to show up.