A Different Type of Thankful Thursday

I've been chewing for a few days about what exactly I wanted to say in this particular blog post.  I posted a picture almost a week ago that got more response than I expected, by a long shot! And it's been heavy on my heart ever since.

See, I've never been the type to be outspoken or confrontational.  While as a kid I always loved being the center of attention, the thought slightly terrifies me as an adult.  However, when something is tugging this strongly at my heartstrings and I know it's a subject many women don't talk about and struggle with, I'm speaking out.

I was just being honest when I posted this picture.  Real girls aren't perfect.  I've said from the get go of becoming a Beachbody coach - I'm all about keeping it real.  I signed up to do this yes, a way to gain some financial freedom, to make some money for myself instead of using my husbands paycheck {I know all you stay at home mamas understand what I'm saying here}, but more importantly to make a difference in people's lives.  As a stepping stone to do what I finally realize I really want to truly do - what I'm totally and completely on fire about.  To show people that no matter who you are, or where you come from, you can do this.  In the words of sweet Aibileen: You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important. And I'm throwing one last statement in there: You is beautiful.   

When I got pregnant with our first child, that 15+ year old insecurity of my physical appearance reared it's ugly head with a vengeance.  I can't even tell you how many tears I shed over the fear of stretch marks, then later over the stretch marks themselves.  How I might never look "the same" again.  How I felt sitting next to my 23 year old {I was 29 at the time} friend that was a good 50 pounds lighter than I was, with "perfect" skin and no fear of strutting her stuff in an itty bitty bikini.  And I felt like a beached whale.  I literally cried to my husband that I didn't understand how he could still find me beautiful and sexy, when all I could see were mounds of imperfections.  Extra skin left from pregnancy, stretch marks, discolorations... I mean, let's be real, it's a bit traumatic to the system.  Especially when you use all the lotions that claim to keep stretch marks away and instead of this beautiful "perfect" belly like Tori Spelling, you end up with exactly what you were trying to avoid in the first place... I hadn't quite figured it out that pregnant bellies are beautiful.  I embraced it much more the second time around.

I went from ~128 to 174 with my first pregnancy {Aug '11 in the picture on the left}, and ~118 to 158 with my second {Oct '13 on the right}.  Believe me when I say that I gained my fair share of weight with both babies! :)

I wish I could tell you the exact moment that it clicked in my brain how silly it all was.  I wish I could say that the hundreds of times that my husband held me while I sobbed {during and immediately after pregnancy}and whispered sweet reassurances that I'd just had his baby and I needed to realize what I'd just accomplished and was beautiful to him no matter what I thought I saw in the mirror, actually clicked.  Don't get me wrong, those words helped, but that wasn't what knocked me completely off my high horse.

It was my son.  I've looked at him in utter amazement and wonderment so many times I lost count the first month of his life...and I've done so millions and trillions of time since... but my thoughts every time that I gazed at him were like a record on repeat: We made this tiny little miracle.  I carried him, and grew him, and gave him life.  ME.  The further that sunk in, the more I began to realize how incredibly selfish I was being about my body.  Those stretch marks, the ones that covered my butt, hips, thighs, around my knees, boobs, and especially my stomach - those were proof that my body had accommodated this tiny little person.  It had been his home, his safe haven, his life source.  Those stretch marks were what made me a mama.

There was another thought that popped into my head as well: how ridiculous was I being about these badges of honor {if you will}, when there are women all over the world that can't get pregnant? Had I ever stopped to realize how many women would love to be covered in stretch marks, just so that they could carry their own baby? That one stung.  Bad.  We all are inherently selfish by nature, we're all sinners, so it shouldn't have felt like such a slap in the face to realize how childishly selfish I had been about how I looked, but it did.  And I was.

How ridiculous is it that we - women in general, not just mamas - have fallen into the trap that society has set for us? That we have to look a certain way in order to be beautiful...?  Those models that we are constantly comparing ourselves to are airbrushed.  They aren't real.  And no offense, but I don't want to look that thin. I want tone, I want definition, I want to look and be strong.  I want to be healthy outside and in.  I want to be someone that my daughter can look up to.  

I stumbled upon this beauty one night {or should I say early morning?} when I was having a nursing session with my first... and literally wept with how it made me feel.  It was absolutely what I needed to hear/see at the time, and has stuck with me ever since.  I saved it on my phone, and looked at it every single time I felt down to give myself a reality check.  Kinda like, I am woman, hear me roar! {Cue: Katy Perry's Roar, haha!}  

I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have bouts of insecurity - how I still have this baby pooch, or the way my extra skin wrinkles when I bend over or do crunches, or how my boobs are not as perky as they once were due to two bouts of breastfeeding {haha!}... but they're incredibly short lived.  Fleeting moments that I wrestle with like every other woman out there.  Now, not only have I completely embraced my mama body, I'm working with it, instead of against it.  

And then I look at my two little precious miracles, and laugh at myself... and I'm thankful for every little imperfection that I earned by becoming their mama.