I looked down at my soft pudgy belly and softly held her with both hands whispering “thank you, thank you so much.” I let the hormonal flood of all the feels and 100 deep thoughts pour over me and mimicking my firstborn’s voice and enthusiasm in my head, said cheerfully “we did it!!”
There was a time I didn’t know if I could get pregnant. Then there was a time where I didn’t know if my body could successfully hold and keep a pregnancy. The road to my first born was not an easy one and yet here we are. Two beautiful boys. Two loves created and carried within my body.
There was also a time when I obsessed over weight, size and appearance. Where I was painfully insecure about my body and tried to control and edit her into an unachievable different version of herself. I hated myself for having cellulite. Was repulsed by the largeness and heaviness of my thighs and hips. Felt itchy and uncomfortable in my own skin.
I love where I have arrived. Do I still wish I didn’t have cellulite, stretch marks, sagging boobs or wrinkles,? Do I still have moments of insecurity about my appearance? Oh of course. I will look at friends or social media feeds and feel awe and envy in moments over other’s bodies, appearances and attractiveness. I will in moments wish for that booty or those legs, abs, flawless skin, etc; but it’s so fleeting and holds very little leverage. It becomes more of an appreciation for the human body and a “good for them.” And less a cutting inventory of my lacking.
And then there are the moments where I feel a badge of honor and pride for the imperfections. Where they are a testament to me of being human and of the arduous and rewarding journey of acceptance and self love. Like in the shower, marveling at my soft bulging belly and feeling so proud of it.
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