A Look in the Mirror

A few weeks ago, I read an article about a mother of five from Canada who went to the beach in a bikini for the first time in years. A group of teenagers, noticing the stretch marks on her belly, began to make fun of her, saying she should be ashamed to go to the beach and put a body like hers on display. The comments made her feel ashamed, embarrassed, angry. She responded to those teens in a blog entry, which soon went viral.

I hope those teens read her entry. I hope they felt guilty for talking about this mother that way, for making her feeling badly about herself and her body. I hope she hit a nerve with them; I know she hit one with me, and thousands of other women who have been blessed enough to give birth to another human being. 

This woman's blog entry made me think. The next time I took a shower , I stopped and really looked at my body. I saw the stretch marks on my own belly, the tops of my thighs, my torso. They've faded in the last nine months so they're not very noticeable anymore, but they're there. I saw the hair on my head that is still shedding after nine months, that I find everywhere around the house. I saw a fuller face and a thicker body, one that is a good 25 pounds heavier than I'd like for it to be. I saw the pooch of a tummy that wasn't there two years ago, but now keeps me from squeezing into my size 8 pants. But. I also saw breasts that nourished my baby for five and a half months, that made him grow and thrive. I saw my belly, the place where my baby spent nine months, the place where I first felt him kick. I saw my arms, a little thicker than they used to be, but where my baby finds comfort when he's sad, grumpy, or just in the mood to snuggle. I saw my face and my smile, the same one my baby sees when I go to get him from his crib in the morning and when I pick him up from daycare in the afternoon. I saw my legs, which my baby clings to as I make his bottle in the kitchen, as he stands there waiting to be picked up.

Looking at the changes my body has gone through in the last 18 months didn't make me sad. Do I wish I were skinnier? Yes. Do I wish I didn't have stretch marks? Yes. Do I wish my dang hair would stop falling out, finally? Absolutely! But I am proud of what my body has accomplished, this feat that not everyone has the ability to do. I've made and given birth to a human being. A tiny person who could one day grow up to be a doctor, a teacher, an engineer, or President. He's going to make a difference in this world one day, this little boy who I gave birth to. In fact, he already had. I proudly wear these changes on my body, these warrior wounds, these "tiger stripes," as some people call them. I proudly wear them as I look on at my little boy and feel the happiest and proudest I've ever been.