My body doesn’t feel like my own
From the second I became aware of my pregnancy with our first babe, my body transitioned from being a sensual and confident shell to a vessel of nourishment for the life growing inside me.
Because once you’re with child, your body now has a true purpose and becomes a different version than any previously known.
We’ve been through a lot together, me and this body.
Puberty, pregnancy, recovery, breastfeeding, miscarriage, motherhood.
My skin has been stretched and pulled. Torn and tugged. My arms spend their days wrapped around little bodies, and my hands are seldom idle as they take care of the ones I love most.
This body feels like it no longer belongs to me.
So for her, I push the stroller an extra block to feel the sun’s warm rays soaking deep into my skin. And I do yoga in silence after everyone else has gone to bed to feed the soul residing inside.
Because only I know everything this body has accomplished, and it deserves to be praised and spoken to with love and adoration when admiring its own reflection.