The Scars of Life

If I were to list off all the areas of my body touched by a stretch mark I would run out of parts: outer thighs; inner thighs; inner arms; stomach; breasts. From an anatomical view, it stands to reason why these areas would bear the scars of life the most. So why is it that the women who don these bright-red marks feel the need to defend their bodies as having “earned their stripes;” while others are praised for their absence? Is one woman better than the other? Is one more deserving of their womanly status? How has the presence of fertility and childbearing come so far from the days where women with fuller figures were coveted; to the mommy-shaming, cellulite-rubbing, belly-butter using mothers of today? I remember the first time I found one of those bright purplish-red scars on my body –my right inner thigh, to be exact. I didn't know to think of it as a flaw or imperfection upon first inspection: it was a sign I was growing up; growing in to a physically-mature being. Something amazing was happening to my body bringing a welcomed change. Somewhere along the way, though, I learned that this was not the case. These bright marks, with their deep cuts, were a sign of unwanted growth. I was thirteen and about to embark on this crazy experience called “body-hate.”

There is a billion-dollar industry out there preying on women who fear any sign of change beyond their youthful state; including stretch marks. This is an industry that contradicts itself, stating “real women have curves” while offering reasons to rub coconut oil all over your body and drink detox teas. It can be difficult for a new mom to find her way unscathed by the marketing of these products. Aside from hormonal fluctuations and sleep deprivation, most of us are just winging the whole thing called “parenting.” New mothers face immense emotional distress as they begin to navigate their way through the storm of opinions from friends, media, and family, alike. We spend so much time attempting to make the “right” decision for our child, then lay awake late at night worrying if it really was the right decision. We are so focused on this new responsibility in our lives that we often forget there is another person we still need to worry about: ourselves. We forget that we are human, too. That we have needs and rights; that we need love from our families and partners, and from ourselves. We get so caught up in our roles as “mom” that we forget how to take care of ourselves. This continues until one day we find ourselves in line at the checkout counter reading over the front pages of popular magazines comparing our hair, body, nails, boobs, and face to that “perfect” woman on the cover. We belittle ourselves, believing we don’t match the standards set by the Kims and Blakes of the world. Our spirits start to sink and we forget all about the amazing act our bodies just went through. We forget that we’re allowed to be human.

At this point in a new mom’s life, she can take her mind down several roads. 1. She can continue to let herself sink as she delivers one bad thought after another, slowly destroying herself. 2. She can decide that she wants to look EXACTLY like that cover model and use those feelings to fuel her dream; but, still forgets all the amazing things her body has done to get her this far. 3. She can remind herself that her body is more than a shell. That her body built a life for her, became a home for another, eventually splitting itself open to bring that new life into the world. It's the last mom that we need to see more of: the mom that can go home, look into those big new eyes of her baby and remember that her body –stretch marks or not- has done incredible things.

Jennifer from Mamalionstrong is a women’s fitness coach and pre/post-partum guru I follow on social media that recently discussed this very topic. A woman had mentioned how “lucky” she was to have not had stretch marks from her pregnancy. “Is that really what you feel lucky, for?” was Jennifer’s response. For the many women that suffer from infertility; for the many women that have experienced still birth; for the many families that have lost a child: you are lucky for your baby; plain and simple. Our bodies are capable of many things: running, jumping, dancing, and playing. We are capable of holding someone’s hand at times of sadness; capable of holding an embrace. We are capable of lifting our children, kissing our partners, smiling at a friend. Look down at that new child of yours. What if he or she ever thought one of those many hurtful things you say to your reflection and directed it towards his or her own body? Look down at those perfect little hands and those tiny little toes. What if your child was unable to see the miracle you see in them? How would you want your child’s inner voice to sound? Now, why should your voice differ in any way? A mark is a mark. It tells a story. My stretch marks tell of my body changing to accommodate two new lives. They show how my body adapted to become a home for my children, cradling them as they grew into the sweet little 7 lbs 8oz babies they were. These marks are part of mine, and their story.

When I look at my daughter, I notice several features that catch the eye. She has this golden hair that seems to sparkle, even on the greyest of days. It has this wave to it that embodies her slightly care-free nature. She has these big laughing brown eyes that always shine. Her knees are scraped up or bruised from her trying something new that pushes boundaries. She has a sweet disposition and always tries to lend a helping hand. She has my toes. I have a wish for her that as she grows she learns to love these features of herself and staves off the easy distraction of self-dissatisfaction. I hope that one day she, too, will know the blessing it is to grow a child. To know those tiny little feet as they poke between a rib, then kiss them for the first and thousandth time. I hope that as she grows into the role of a woman and mother, she takes pride in her body’s changes, rather than fearing a mark these changes may leave behind. I hope that she knows how lucky she is to hold her own child, as I am to hold mine, for she is worth more than the sum of her parts.