Body shame... shame on me.

I know better.

I know this is an important stage for my body to experience, the post-baby phase. The phase when my body retains a certain amount of excess fat in order for milk production to be it's most effective. The phase when my body gradually deflates from plump to a little less plump, month after month (the same way it inflated ever-so-gracefully). The phase when my muscles and skin re-orient themselves to a new normal.

But it's also a phase in which I catch myself doing the one thing that (when I'm in my right mind) seems absurd. After having personally witnessed the presence of a miracle growing inside, after living the miracle of labor and delivery, after knowing the miracle of nursing an infant...I somehow still look in the mirror and have a certain amount of body shame.

Let me assure you, I have gotten none of this from others. I have only heard affirmations from those around me. And even though society at large surely plays a role with the propagating of unrealistic female body image, it's mostly my own unrealistic expectations at play.

So shame on me (so to speak) for shaming my own body.

Yes, my body is different. Two months after giving birth to my second child, my abs feel a little like jello. Half my wardrobe is currently off-limits. I'm not yet up to those Crossfit workouts. My appetite is unquenchable. I can see the aging process occur each time I catch a glimpse in the mirror. I don't look or feel like the same 'me.'

And the truth is, I'm not the same me. I never will be. But this is hardly a reason to feel ashamed. This new body of mine? It's the body of a mother, and no mother's body can be compared to its pre-baby form. It's made an incredible transformation, it's lived a story of sacrifice.

The jello-like abs and extra fluff are a part of the story. The ill-fitting clothes and altered exercise routines are a part of the story. The wrinkles and wear are all a part of the story.

And in case we've forgotten what that story is-- let me remind myself and all those mothers struggling with body shame; we've been a part of a story that's given birth to a miracle.

And miracles remind us there's only room enough in life for grace and love, patience and faith. All else distracts us from the reality of God's good gifts.

So do I want my clothes to fit? 

Uh, yeah. 

But until that day, I'm gonna dance and play with Briggs, cuddle and sway with Blaire, and give thanks for the incredible opportunity to be the mother of miracles.