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I want my daughter to love the body she's in, so I'm working to love mine

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I want to love this body I am in.

I have spent so much time being angry at this body for failing me and my dreams of motherhood. Even after it has demonstrated its ability to sustain life, I respond with such disregard. I do not honor what it has done and where it has carried me.

Facing my reflection, my eyes linger on a squishy belly and wobbly arms. I see thighs that chafe and breasts that sag. This battle with the mirror is not new. It is a war that has been fought for far too long. I want to surrender.


I want to look at myself through the eyes of someone who loves me. I wonder what they would see.

I am trying to be that person.

The person who loves me and who can forgive my body for being flawed. I want to look in the mirror and see ME. I want to uncover what's really there.

I want to love this body of mine that has welcomed the possibility of a life that is not my own. A body that has let me know when those lives were no longer possible. My beautiful, tired body that has wrapped up death in its loving folds.

I want to love this body of mine that once began shutting down and considered giving up. A body that remembered its strength, that carried me through one more breath and then another and will bring me through millions more. My gorgeous, damaged body that had to succumb weakness to find its strength.

I want to love this body of mine that dared to hope. A body that defied reason and mysteriously sustained life. My strong, weary body that knew how to bring forth life, even after delivering so much death.

If only it were so easy. There is such fear in loving who we are because we might not always like what we see. Even when I find the beautiful parts, my eyes will still find their way to that squishy belly and those chafing thighs. So, I cover up. I hide.

But, I don't want to hide anymore.

I want to see what's there because I want her to see what's there. I want her to know that it's okay to take your shorts off at the beach to uncover your dimply thighs. When she looks at me I want her to see me loving my squishy belly sitting snugly under layers of Lycra. I want her to feel the wobble in my arms as I scoop her up and pull her close. I want her to love the body I'm in. I want her to love the body she's in. It's a journey we can walk together.

But, I must take the first step.

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