I remember being so confident in my skin.
I was happy with the way I looked and that gave me a power within myself that is hard to describe. It's not that I had the picture-perfect body that every girl dreams of, but for a season I had to be my own home and so I was thankful for my body because it carried me through some of the most gut-wrenching times of my life.
Then my home became where ever my husband was. I no longer relied on myself, and so I let myself go. I can't even pin point the moment I forgot about "me". All I know is that one day I woke up and I didn't even recognise myself anymore.
This flesh suit that has been with me since the beginning of my life looked like a completely different person and it scared me. I didn't like her because I didn't know her.
And if I didn't like me then how could I expect other people to?
So I began mourning the body and the image I lost because I never said goodbye to her...
I would never be able to get the closure I wanted.
I spent 2 years being a foreigner in my own body. That was until my body became someone else's home. I don't really know what it was about sacrificing my own body for the wellbeing of another that was so rewarding, but all I can say is that it was.
For the first time in a long time my body was needed.
It had to be a safe place.
And thankfully it was so good at being that for my baby.
I watched my tiny body grow bigger and bigger. The more I grew the more I fell in love with me again. Of course there were moments when I felt frustrated with my body during pregnancy. It's easy to feel consumed by the discomfort and new stretch marks, but still, I was proud of it. And when I gave birth I felt even more like my old self!
That's because I had to fight for myself again! I had to fight to deliver my baby safely and I did just that! I can still remember the feeling of pride and gratitude for myself as I held my newborn baby. I did that. I was her home for 9 months. My body nurtured this tiny perfect life from just a tiny seed and that was wild! How amazing are we to be able to do such a thing?
Once my baby was born I had to sacrifice some more. That was tough, but I felt like I was a soldier fighting a war and I was determined to win. There definitely were battles lost and tears shed, but at the end of the day when I look at my tired, worn, and stretchy body I am reminded of the obstacles I overcame. I am reminded that I was my daughters home and still am, even after the physical "life-line" was cut. She relies on me.
I rely on me.
My body looks nothing like it did when I was most confident.
Im no longer a size 2. I don't have a tiny waist and don't even get me started on my chest!
BUT I am me again.
I am my home again because I am her home.
And one day my daughter won't need me in this way anymore and that's okay. I will forever have this reminder of what my body did for her and that makes it all worth it.
I will be okay because my body is my reward.