An Ode to My Body
How can I hate my body when it made you? How can I hate my body when it was the only home you ever knew? It kept you warm, protected you, and fed you. It’s the body that felt your kicks and twists. The violent stretch marks show how you grew and remind me you were there.
How can I love my body when it failed you? How can I love my body when it became your grave? It couldn’t protect you and it could no longer give you what you needed. It’s the body that felt your kicks and twists stop. The violent stretch marks remind me you’re not here.
My body has been through wondrous and terrible things. My womb has been through pregnancy three times with four children. It has been through life and loss. It has been through fertility tests and treatment, being poked and prodded for the sake of growing our family. It has been through endometriosis. It has been through surgeries and births. It has gone through a cesarean, D&C, and vaginal birth to bring our babies into this world, but my body has only been given one beautiful life to raise.
My body is brave. It has made difficult decisions for seven years. It faced trauma and abuse. It escaped even when it meant being a single mom. It stood up for itself and fought the courts. It helped protect Charleigh. It faced every one of Charleigh’s doctors’ appointments and stayed strong when doctors told me she needed surgery. It didn’t collapse when they told me she needed chest compressions and was in the cardiac intensive care unit. It held her through seizures. It stayed with her through RSV and a collapsed lung. It learned how to pick the nice guy and learned how to accept love again. It learned to trust again. It has helped Char through her own trauma, her own anxiety and her ADHD. It knew when to get her help and fought to help her. It researches and does what needs to be done to help her.
It endured going to appointments alone while Jack sat in the car because of COVID. It faced being told there was no heartbeat at twelve weeks and being told there was a hidden twin who was also gone. It withstood being told they’d been gone for three weeks. It held onto those twin boys for three weeks because it didn’t want to let go. It survived hearing their severe abnormalities and the fact they were likely conjoined. It endured the miscarriage starting naturally and then the surgery for them to be born. It chose to try again to grow our family further.
It survived being alone again being told there was no heartbeat. This time three days before our baby’s due date. It gave birth to my son knowing I would never get to raise him. It fought through pain and pushing, knowing the heartache on the other side. These are the arms that held him even though he was gone. This is the chest he laid on until he turned cold. These are the lips that kissed him over and over. These eyes studied every little feature to memorize him. These fingers held his hands and felt his hair. This heart has known so much love and pain, but it keeps beating. These legs carry me everyday even when they feel like giving out under the pressure.
This body has survived postpartum with no baby to hold. I still had to hurt and care for stitches. I still had to bleed for five weeks. My milk still came in with no baby to feed. I had to ice and massage for days while my milk painfully dried up. It ordered postpartum products and faced packaging with moms and babies displayed all over it. It walked through Target and faced seeing the baby section for the first time, even when it meant crying in the middle of a store, looking like a crazy person. It endured my period starting up because it was ready to heal and move forward, no matter how much it hurts my heart. My stretch marks became my battle scars.
It is okay to be angry at my body and still love it. I can feel all these things because my body is myself. I am a culmination of all I have been through. The good and the bad, the one in a million chances, the tragedies, the mistakes, the victories, and most importantly the love. I am choosing to fight daily to love myself and my body.