I hear some mothers and even fathers talk about how having babies has destroyed their or their spouse’s bodies. Before I became pregnant a friend told me: “Don’t have a baby; babies ruin your body!”
In the year since my son came into the world, my body carries proof of his existence. I have dark pools under my eyes, and a valley where my belly button once was. I’m good with a new understanding that my 20-year-old self wouldn’t recognize – lines mapped across the mountains of skin, proving I once was too small to contain all the love that filled me. Those lines on my skin are all I have left to prove that we were once one and not two. How can I be ashamed of that? Not much makes me feel more beautiful than seeing tiny renditions of my features on my son, and realizing how special they are. My body grew that. Not everyone has that privilege.
I’m not something flawless in the eyes of society, or even close to what I once was physically, but my boy sees me for who I am. To him, I hang the moon. He knows my heart, and knew it long before we met. And he loves me. I cannot tell you how much worth and validation I feel because of that truth. My body is only a vessel for my spirit. My body made me a mother. If anything, I was ruined by the world before I knew him, and he made me whole again.
My Friend Said Having Babies Would Ruin My Body