Through the eyes of a child.

August 19, 2014

Molly likes to brush her fingers across the many stretch marks on my stomach.

Stretch marks are a weird thing.  We hate them.  We earn them doing one of the most life-changing and wonderful things in the world, but when it comes to moving past the changes in our bodies after having children, we balk.
Recently I’ve been starting to gain confidence in my body and self in a way I haven’t felt in years.  My boobs sag, my stomach bulges, my legs wiggle when I’m not walking and I’ve stretch marks all over my torso.
Motherhood changes you completely.
But lately I’ve been feeling confident in my body.  It’s a good body. Borne three children, weathering diabetes somewhat well, lets me walk where I want to go, if slower than I wished I could.   I like myself and while I wouldn’t say that i feel beautiful, I am more confident.

When Molly rubbed my stretch marks earlier today and told me how pretty they are – all pink and slightly shiny – and talked about how she hoped she had some just like mine when she got bigger; I melted.

She thinks I’m beautiful.  Sags and stretch marks and all. 
Admires me constantly.  Hugs me and holds me and just thinks I’m beautiful.

I want to hold this feeling forever.

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