Dear Momma In The Mirror

miror

Dear Momma In The Mirror,

I see you. I see you sizing yourself up against others and yourself  before you brought a human into this world.
I see you poking and prodding a padded body that doesn’t resemble your former self. I see you eyeing stretched places and sagging parts that you thought you’d never have. I know you’re puzzling over them, crying over them and finding ways to hide.
I know the magazines and old clothes speak lies that you have let yourself go. That because you haven’t bounced back in “x” amount of days/weeks you are forever destined to be ugly.
I know you fear the worst. That this strange body of yours that no longer has a cute bump that gave you accolades and an excuse to look a certain way will warrant judgement and rejection from those that love you. From strangers. From yourself. The lie is what if I’m no longer beautiful?
I know it cringes at seeing photographs of yourself and stepping on scales at doctors offices. How did this happen? You know how it happened but it still hurts for some reason. I know you feel ashamed.
Your eyes judge as you pass every reflecting surface and you scramble to hide the changed parts every time you dress.
You see only what was lost or what you lack.
But, what about seeing you though what you have?
You have a body that housed another life and brought it into this world. Those widened hips are curvy, feminine. The softness that is left is perfect for a tiny life to snuggle into. Your body feeds this little life. Your arms are strong from rocking, carrying, snuggling and holding. Your body is stretched like the heart that expanded a thousand times to house the love of a tiny person. Each mark a battle scar. Perhaps a scar lays across your abdomen. You are marked, forever because of another life. Your body sacrificed for another miracle. Another life. Another person.  It’s love. Raw love symbolized in the undergone changes.
So momma, when you see those things that hurt your heart remember they are there because you gave another life.
The truth is you are beautiful. You let yourself love, grow and change. You have grown and changed as you stepped into a new role. Your body is amazing. It made life. Gives life. Each mark, roll, softness and sag is a reminder of this.
After all, you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are more than a pant size, a number on a scale, and a figure the world says you have to have.
You are healthy, strong. You are a mom.
Love,
The beautiful Momma you really are
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