My body didn't "bounce back" the way they made it sound like it would if you chose to breastfeed. I also wasn't one of the lucky ones who got a reprieve from a period while breastfeeding. My old jeans don't fit. It's not so much the remaining baby weight I'm still carrying, but my body has changed. Things have shifted, widened, sagged. It's a difficult thing to look at a beautiful 6 month old baby and then look down and wonder when you will be back to normal.
Today I put my maternity jeans back on.
I haven't been this comfortable in months.
I remember all those months we tried to conceive, with no success, and being so disappointed in my body. Even now, with my miracle staring back at me, I am still disappointed in my body because it didn't shrink back up the way I thought it would; The way I wanted it to.
But this body is amazing.
This body nurtured and carried my son as he grew, healthy, in my womb. It still does that.
This body labored for hours to bring him into this world, and then labored again through months of recovery from the trauma of childbirth.
This body feeds him all the nutrients he needs to thrive, carries him up and down stairs, bathes him, plays with him, takes him for walks, holds him up in the air while he giggles and squeals.
This body has been faithful and strong and reliable.
This body still makes my husband do a double-take, even with all the new lumps and divets and stretched skin. He still loves him and tells me I'm beautiful.
It's hard to see that myself. It's hard to look at what my body has done, created, and judge it so harshly. I would like to just put on something warm and comfortable, light a pumpkin-scented candle, sip hot tea and drown in the wonder of my baby all day without feeling self-conscious about my belly. I don't want to miss anything about this time by being too focussed on a number on the scale.
It's autumn here. The beginning of my favorite time of year. Today Owen and I are in matching gray and white sweaters. The leaves have started to change colors and the breeze that blows is no longer refreshing, but crisp and cool and makes you wish a warm beverage was permaglued to your hand. If Spring is new life then Fall is the last burst of energy before inevitable death, before the long hibernation of winter. Every time the cool breeze blows I want to close my eyes, breathe it in, feeling the warm sun on my face as I savor the last hurrah of life, of color.
I'm thankful for this time of year more than any other, I think, because I'm reminded of all that has happened in such a short amount of time. Every time the seasons change, and winter looms, I'm reminded of all the life that has been lived when it was warm enough to open the windows. This is the time of year that family gathers, celebrations and thanks are offered, new friendships are forged and old friendships are deepened. I find myself seeking out Jesus more in the quiet of this season than any other during the year.
In a season where it's dangerous to want more things, spend more money, do more activities, I want to want more grace, spend more time, do more praying. I want to love my neighbors, serve my family, give thanks to God. I want to be grateful.
I want to look at myself in the mirror and not see the baby weight, but the weight of the baby and everything he's brought to this family. I want to believe in miracles because I've experienced one. I want to love this body no matter what shape, size, or condition.
And so I will wear these maternity jeans without shame until I can find a pair that make me feel comfortable, and I will light that candle, and share my Jesus with Owen while we sit by the window and watch the cool breeze blow the leaves off the trees. And at the end of the day, what's better than that anyway?
Amen :)
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