After a session of rough housing and tickles with my little ones, I was laying on my back on the floor. My oldest (7) came over and saw my mom belly poking out where my shirt had lifted a little. She noticed the silvery lines stretching up my stomach as the sunlight hit them and asked me what they were. I laughed and said they were from her and her brother and sister living inside of me. She looked intrigued and ran her fingers across them, asking if they hurt. And in that moment, I realized how important it was for me to convey the beauty of those wiggly lines lingering on my skin. I told her they didn’t hurt and that I was so grateful I had them. That each baby added more and more, but it was proof of my body working for me, doing what I wanted and needed it to do, giving me the most precious gifts I’ve ever received. She smiled and asked if she would get them too one day. I told her I honestly wasn’t sure, but if she did, I hoped she’d be able to love them like I love mine.
I haven’t always loved my stretch marks, or my tall stature, or my long awkward limbs, but I’ve been working hard on loving my body. Trying to see how beautiful and wonderful it is that I have a body, one that works properly overall. I can run, okay… not well, but it’s a possibility because of my working legs and spine. I can carrying my babies and roll around on the ground with them. I can stand for hours doing dishes and making a meal for those I love.
I’m sorry I haven’t always appreciated you, body. We’ve been through so much together and you’ve served me well. I still have a ways to go, but I promise to continue to be kinder to you; there are little eyes watching me and determining how they should feel towards their own bodies. I want them to love theirs too!