I’ve posted before about how I, like many other mothers, am insecure about my post-baby body. Maybe that’s partially due to the years of torment I put myself through, or maybe it’s just normal mommy insecurities that go along with the ten thousand other things I think I’m not good enough at. I’m not sure.
Try as I might to not be so vain and caught up in my physical appearance, I find from time to time I get pulled down with the voice that I’m ruined and scarred. Almost anywhere underneath my clothes has touches of stretch marks. My body has bruises from a baby carrier knocking against my hip. It has literal claw marks from the tiny hands that grip onto me so tightly, begging not to be let down.
I took Rae upstairs to go to down for a nap.
I sat down leaning up against her dresser, crossed my legs and laid her in my lap.
Her body curled up facing me and she nursed herself to sleep.
This happens everyday.
It’s nothing new.
But watching her tiny eye lids flutter as she fell quiet,
her arms go limp,
she snuggles into my chest some more with still soft breaths,
I hear her let out a sigh.
I can’t help but just sit there and stare at her.
She’s so content.
She’s breathtakingly beautiful.
I was her home for 9 months.
And to her, my body still is.
I spend hours every week critiquing myself.
I should run more.
I should eat better.
I should sleep more (HA).
I should try this cream or that oil to hide everything that isn’t perfect.
But to them,
I am perfect.
I look at my own mother and the things that I know about her.
She is strong.
She is caring.
She is beautiful.
So why is it so hard to find that strength and beauty in myself?
I grew those babies for 9 months.
I nourished them with my body.
I nurse them day in and day out for months.
I cradle them.
I tickle them.
I carry them.
I run with them.
I hold them tightly.
I am their mother.
I am strong.
I am exactly what they need.
And I am beautiful.
For You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.