Dear Postpartum Body,
In the beginning I was angry at you and ashamed your stomach had to be cut open to deliver my precious babies. I would not look at you. It seemed if I ignored you something might change. The scar you carried should have been treated as a badge of honor and instead it disgusted me. I was not ready for you. You were a reminder to me of everything that happened during the birth of my babies of what went wrong or not the way I imagined it would. You came too early. I never had a chance to make a birth plan or have the tools to stand up for myself or you. I resented you because you were always with me, showing me, I could never go back, my pregnancy was over, and I would never give birth again.
As time went on, we were both holding onto the traumatic birth, neither of us could move forward and heal. I did everything I could for you. Made sure to exercise, hold my babies, eat healthy and drink gallons of water, but where I failed was not taking the time to really acknowledge you. I spent months trying to hide you, not wanting myself or others to see how broken you truly were. All I wanted was my old body back, not you. After the placenta was discovered and removed at 10 weeks, I intuitively knew we could heal, there was a way to move forward. I felt the lightness and energy from you. In a matter of weeks, you started to heal, had more strength and there was a vibrancy that was not there before. The old clothes slowly starting to fit. You could move around and play with the girls easily. These moments were when I really started to embrace you.
I bravely took the time to look at your scar, study the stretch marks clearly showing where Baby A and Baby B were nestled in your belly and adore the new weird belly button. Knowing I would still have to put in a lot of work to help you mend. I see you now. The power you have and all that we went through in the months together growing the girls who are the biggest light in my life. You gave me that gift. I love you for your strength, resilience, and beauty. You may not be perfect anymore, but your imperfections tell a story. One I will cherish for the rest of my days.
