A scared transformation

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 There’s a quiet transformation that happens in motherhood, one we don’t always talk about out loud.


Our bodies change.


Sometimes drastically, sometimes subtly. Skin stretches. Curves soften. Lines appear where there were none. And the reflection in the mirror may feel unfamiliar for a while. But this body, this beautiful, powerful, worn-in body, has done something sacred.


It grew a life.


It carried a heartbeat inside it. It weathered months of discomfort, pain, anticipation, and joy. It delivered a miracle into the world. And whether through birth, adoption, or the day-in, day-out love we pour out, motherhood leaves its mark.


Personally, I went from 140 pounds before pregnancy, feeling confident and loving the way I dressed, to 190 by the end. My breasts darkened and enlarged with milk, and stretch marks became part of my daily reflection. I didn’t hate what I saw, but I didn’t exactly recognize myself either. I hid under baggy shirts and lived in nursing bras, adjusting to a body that felt like a stranger.


But here’s the thing: that phase didn’t last forever.


Now, 19 months later, I’m back at 140. But I’m not “back to who I was.” I’m more than I was. My stretch marks remain, but they no longer bother me. They’re quiet reminders of everything I carried—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My breasts have shrunk, and yes, I’ve retired the nursing bras (praise be). I feel confident again in the way I dress, and honestly? I feel free.


No more hiding. No more apologizing for a body that did something miraculous.


What if we all saw our stretch marks as lightning bolts, evidence of the storm we walked through and the strength that came from it?


What if the softness in our stomachs reminded us that we once made room for someone else inside us?


What if we looked at our tired eyes and saw the countless nights we rocked, soothed, and loved a tiny soul in the dark?


This body may not look like it did before, but it is more. It’s seasoned. It’s sacred. It’s real.


So to the mama tugging at old jeans or avoiding mirrors, take a deep breath. You are not less. You are more.


More compassionate.

More resilient.

More whole.

More you.


You’re not “getting your body back.” You never lost it. It just grew into something stronger, softer, and more stunning than you ever expected.


Let’s speak kindly to our mommy bodies. Let’s model self-love for our daughters and sons. Let’s take up space with gratitude and confidence.


Because mama, your body tells a story of love.

And that’s something to be proud of.


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