Becoming a mother was a top to bottom change of state for me. Pretty much everything I thought was true changed the moment I got knocked up. Most of it for the better, some of it I lost myself to, and although the road back has been long I’m still not sure it wasn’t worth it.
Even on my most frustrated, at the end of my rope, want to duct tape the children’s mouths shut and put them in the closet days, being a mother resonates in a very deep part of my soul. Even when I’m not at all sure that my mothering techniques are up to snuff, I always have complete confidence in being a mother.
But one of the most tangible parts of becoming a mother for me has been getting comfortable in my own skin again. I have always been at war with my body image. Even when I was thin and healthy and gorgeous, I just couldn’t see myself very clearly. Since the stretch marks have marathoned across the length of my stomach and my hips (and feet) have widened and my boobs have gravitated towards my belly button in an attempt to commune with the depths that reside there, I’ve mostly just tried to ignore my body image. And my body. It serves its purpose well and I’m grateful for that, but I’d rather just pretend that I’m always wearing an invisibility cloak.
The journey undertaken this past year however has brought some much needed perspective when it comes to my appearance (thanks to the Mojo Boots for bringing me back my sass). And even though it makes me sick (in the best possible way) when all of my friends look as if they’ve never been pregnant 2.7 minutes after birthing their children, there is a part of me that has become deeply grateful for the fact that there is physical evidence of having my two babies.
I’d gladly trade my jeans for a new pair a few sizes smaller any day of the week, but I wouldn’t ever hand over the tangible corroboration of what my body is capable of. That’s empowerment that Mojo Boots just can’t touch.
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