I dream of THAT body…But my son stole my body

My whole pregnancy, I was all my body will bounce back. I will run, I will work out, I will eat healthily.

And while that all is true I do, it still takes longer than expected. But that is okay & I will tell you why.

My son stole my body. 

Ok, he isn’t a thief. But for sure he is holding that lovely taught and toned body hostage.

And that body, my old, pre-baby body will be held until the point that I win it back. Or beg for it back. Or work my ass off for it back.

In today’s society getting our bodies back is something so important, it should almost be expected, as if it is coded into my genetic makeup as a woman who has birthed a child. It seems that getting my body “back” is a requirement that I shouldn’t be questioning.

I can’t help but wonder, what if it’s not a requirement at all? When did getting back to our pre-baby figures become more or as important as the beautiful baby we birthed?

I mean what if we embraced our post-partum figures, What if we cherished our bodies and valued what & who — they have so skillfully created instead?

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about motherhood, it’s that there is no going “back.”

I cannot turn back the clock to cuddle that bundle of terrifying doe-eyed love, back when he was small enough to cradle in one arm.

I cannot turn back the clock to the point when he wanted only his mummy to rock him to sleep

I cannot turn back the clock to that amazing first smile or giggle

In truth, there is only The Now. And tomorrow.

What if we collectively decided to stop trying to turn back the clock? What if we consciously decided to stop trying to squeeze ourselves back into our pre-pregnancy jeans? What if we stopped looking back and decided to look forward instead?

Because there are countless cuddles to come.

Because nature has a million firsts just waiting for us to discover.

Sure, yesterday was filled with cuteness… but tomorrow is filled with adventure. And yes, my skin was once smooth and taut… but now it has the markings of a warrior.

Because I faced death while delivering life. And I lived.

And here I am, still living.

I’m living with under-eye shadows, due to my inevitable break-up with sleep.

I’m living with breasts that have changed shape, size more times than I can count.

Because apparently, my baby stole my body. He claimed it as his and will not be offering a refund. Apparently, I’m supposed to reverse this reality… to turn back the clock.

If my son stole my body, he can keep it. Because I have a new one. A new one that has a stronger mind, a clearer conscience and a peaceful heart. A new one that has pure love pulsing through its veins.

 

A new one that is truly powerful.

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