Yesterday was the first day I was able to
wear pants that didn't have an elastic waist.
My body is still not near where it was
before the baby, but I'm so glad at least
one pair of my old pants (even if they were
the "bigger" pair) fit.
It's strange, even though getting dressed to
leave the house is difficult these days,
my maternity wear is too big, my regular clothes
are too tight, I secretly kind of like my
jiggly belly that still dreams of being home
to the little peanut.
I don't even mind the stretch marks, it
just reminds me of the amazing things my body did
to make and care for that precious little part of
me that laughs now and sleeps in a crib.
They are personal tattoos that tell the most
important story of my life, a reminder of my
strength as a woman and the beauty that will
always be a part of me.
My old body and my old life may be gone, but
every part of every day is somehow better,
brighter, and more hopeful. I wouldn't trade
it for anything.
