I have never loved my body…. Until now

I have never loved my body. I starved myself for years and if I wasn’t starving myself, I was gorging myself in depression and anxiety.

I looked at myself in the mirror after a shower today, 2 weeks and 4 days postpartum and saw someone I’ve never seen before.

I saw someone I loved, regardless of her body. A body that was full of scars and a story. The story of a scared little girl turned into a Warrior Mother. Scars of pain and neglect, mixed with the stretch marks of love, nurture, and strength like no other as no love comes close to that of a mother’s.

And it is fucking beautiful. Saggy skin that kept my child warm and safe while they grew. Stretch marks showing my body did its job so PERFECTLY, growing as my little one grew. Saggy or engorged breast that nurture my child now outside my body.

I am in love with my body for the first time because I see it for what it is. It is the story of a women, a mother, a warrior and fighter. It is a story that will protect and thrive as my child grows into a toddler, a child, a teen and an adult. It is the story of unconditional love despite the darkness that once lurked in its depths. It is a story of survival.