More resolutions

I wish I could see my body and myself like my kids see me.
I wish I could love myself the way they love me, 
unconditionally, unreservedly, wholly and completely.

My body is strong, I know it is, I have grown and loved four babies in as many years, it has nourished, chased, played with and held three of them and mourned one until it felt like it was ripping itself to pieces. 
And it shows.
I have stretch marks, grey hair, bags under my eyes and a dress size that would have shocked me ten years ago. In public I call my "smudges" badges of honor, after all, I went through a war or four to get them, but in private I sometimes find myself mourning the body I once had.

My kids however, they just love me.

When my son sees my breasts, he dosnt think about the size and shape they used to be, he thinks about and feels the nourishment, warmth, and comfort that they now represent to him, as they did for his sisters before him.

When we take our baths together, I am his cradle. His perfect body nestles into my imperfect one in a way that mimics the first months we spent together, when he lived beneath my heart. In those moments my imperfections are the last things on either of our minds, there is only love and closeness, as only a mother and her child can feel.  

When my daughters see me dragging myself downstairs at the crack of dawn with my eyes barely open and my voice crackly from lack of sleep, they dont see the stoop of my shoulders, or the bags under my eyes, they see a chance for snuggles on the couch and a movie.

When I reach for my children they don't see the definition my arms have lost, they see their new purpose, to give love and protection.

To them, I am perfect, I am love.
To them, I am home.


They wouldn't change a thing about me, so why should I want to?

I want to love my marks for what they   represent.

Stretch marks aren't just lines on my stomach after all, they are proof positive of the love that I have grown inside of myself, of the fact that I created life, I should be proud of that!

My cesarean scar, that, for the longest time represented a personal failure for me, also represents the fight I fought. 
The three days of agony that I endured to try to bring my baby into the world before I gave in, and in giving in learned that the beauty in birth is not defined by a perfect birth plan, it's about that amazing connection, that unbreakable bond that is created the moment you see your child.

I need to find acceptance like this for all my smudges, they are a map of who I've become.
 I'm no longer a twenty year old girl with no kids, why would I want to look like one? 
This is something I am going to work on in 2014.

2 comments:

  1. Hello Modern House wife,

    I became a mother in August, and now see my messy hair, my face with no makeup and my exhaustion as a badge of honour. I now feel proud like I'm doing a good job.

    Read your post about Christmas Chores, that's how the past Christmas felt to me, I didn't know it will.

    I now see my self differently, thank you for that. You've just made me feel much better.

    God Bless,

    DK

    ReplyDelete
  2. Loved your post! Definitely gave me something to think about.

    ReplyDelete

Blog Widget by LinkWithin