My Stretchmarks

A lot of mommies give it a different name. They call it tiger stripes, zebra prints, badges of honor, stretch love, or battle scars. They're proud of it, thinks it's beautiful and that they've earned it. I have to give them that. They embraced their stripes. To me, well, they're that... stretchmarks. I tried psyching myself, tried calling them tiger stripes too and tried to listen to my husband when he says it's okay, that they're beautiful, but I can't. And I don't wanna sound like a hypocrite (I'm not saying other mommies are, it's just that I really don't like mine), but I honestly don't think they look beautiful.  They remind me of something beautiful, yes. But I can do without them really. I can look at my child and be reminded that I was part of a beautiful miracle. I don't hate them, after all, they are still remnants of my first pregnancy, and souvenirs from my current one. But I feel like I could have prevented it, or at least not have it this bad. I wish I listened when I was told to watch my weight gain, to lather up with moisturizers, and to stay hydrated. I don't regret having them as an aftermath of my pregnancy, but I regret not taking care of my body. Now if I got CS scars, then it would be a different story. Now those are battle scars. (But I certainly hope and pray I won't get them). 

So why take pictures and post it for the whole world to see? Because I am a mother like that. I may not be proud of my stretchmarks but I love looking at my very pregnant belly, with or without stretchmarks. I love how my body morphed into this vessel for a little miracle. I am and will forever be grateful that my body allowed me to nurture this blessing bestowed to us. And I'm still amazed of how the body can accommodate a growing baby and handle all the changes that comes with pregnancy. So you see, this post isn't really about my...stripes. It's about this gift of being a part of creating life and I feel fortunate and blessed to experience all of these.