Every year on the night of my daughter’s birthday, I write her a letter by hand in hopes of one day turning it into a book to give to her on her 21st birthday. I have been doing this every single year since she was born, and today I went through some of them. I thought I would share one of my letters with you. I wrote this to my darling daughter on the evening of her 3rd birthday:
Before I became pregnant I was warned “don’t ever have a baby, babies ruin your body!” It has been three years since you made your way into this world; you used to be just a microscopic speck inside of me. Between then and now, I have gained and lost 26 kilograms … three whole years after your birth, my body still carries the proof of your existence.
My hair has always been my pride and joy; today it is a force to be reckoned with. Besides being more brittle, it has a tendency to fall out due to all the crazy hormone changes – I am still trying to fix it. I have dark circles under my eyes (I really need more sleep) and my skin is as unpredictable as the Cape Town weather. My tummy, once smooth and toned, has become a valley. My hips are wider. I have lightening bolts on my sides and tummy, proving that I was once too small to contain all the love that filled me. These lines, my love letters, are all I have left to prove that we were once one and not two. They indicate that you once lived inside of me. How can I ever be ashamed of that?
It is incredible seeing my eyes embedded in yours, framed by your father’s brows and lashes. When I look at you, I see the man I fell in love with, I see my mother-in-law with her heart of gold, my kind father-in-law, my artistic mother, brave dad and every single one of my sisters all at once. You have my cheeks, my nose, your dad’s lips and bone structure … my body grew that. Not everyone has that privilege, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life.
Sure, my belly is soft and wobbly and I will never wear a bikini again. I still love it. The way it moves when we jump around sends you into fits of giggles. And okay, my hips are wider than they used to be – but they sure know the perfect motion to sway you to sleep! My new, soft body is all that can comfort you when you are upset.
I am not flawless in the eyes of society, or even close to what I once was physically – but you see me for who I am. For you I would give the moon and stars. You knew my heart, you knew it long before we met. You love me, and I cannot tell you how much self-worth and validation I get from that truth.
I was ruined by the world before I met you; you did not ruin my body.
Source: Scary Mommy