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my mom body

although I no longer have the body of a 20-something young woman, I am happy with my mom body.

I’ve read my fair share of posts regarding the body of mom’s. Blog posts, magazine articles, letters to the editor. Plenty of photos and memes that have gone viral. But you know what NONE of those things do? Soften the blow when your kiddo asks why you’re belly looks funny or when your almost three year old finds complete joy in jiggling the extra skin.

You’re a tiger who has earned her stripes!

None of the empowering quotes or the beautiful reasoning behind why you’re even more gorgeous because of what your body did prepares you for that sting.

God blessed my body with the ability to carry three beautiful, healthy boys to term. The way my body has changed because it grew life in it on three separate occasions is not something that I take for granted. Every stretch mark I have reminds me of the beauty of the miracle of pregnancy.

My body grew three perfect babies… three beautiful BIG babies.

I’ve put on an extra 30 pounds on three separate occasions. Each time taking longer than the last to lose the extra weight. Each time putting weight on in different areas. And each time my stretch marks growing a little more.

My breasts have grown and shrunk and stretched out. They are no longer the perky breasts of a 20-something that I remember having.

The shape of my body has changed. My hips are wider, my breasts are flatter, my butt is saggy. There are lines and dimples and scars.

I’ve recently lost 30 pounds… the first time I’ve actually lost all of the weight I put on. Today I was chasing my boys around, wearing just my jeans and one of those lace bralette things.

Suddenly G is slapping my belly repeatedly.

D says to me, “He thinks you’re fat.”

Me: “Why would you think that?”

D: “Cause he’s hitting your stomach.”

Me: “He’s two. He doesn’t even know what fat means. Do you think I’m fat?”

D: “No.”

Me: “Well, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say to me…”

Ouch. Man. The sting of your child telling you you’re fat is not one I would wish on anyone. That honesty that they have… it’s unbridled. So not only are you sad about your child thinking you’re fat, you have to think really hard about the fact that they’re being completely honest with you.

But you know what… I don’t care. I’ve spent more time awake in the last 9 years because of kids than I did in all my days of partying. I’ve kissed countless boo-boos. I’ve nursed through cracked nipples, fed bottles of formula and stumbled through the dark to do feedings in the middle of the night. I’ve co-slept. I’m a mama, mommy, mom. Hell, I’m even just plain old Brix. I’ve suffered through morning sickness, migraines, going overdue, having a c-section, having a VBAC. I have every battle wound to prove it. A gangload of stretch marks that look so much worse up close than from far away – thank you Body Boost. One day my boys will appreciate the beauty behind what my body looks like…

I held them, I knew them, I loved them before I ever even met them…

Each of my “flaws” is a reminder of the bond that was formed all while they grew. I am eternally grateful for my body that carried my beautiful, if not sometimes overly honest, boys to term. While there are things that I want to work on, I will never again demean my body just because it isn’t someone else’s version of perfect.

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