7 Months Postpartum - "I have a Bikini Body!"

Back in September while marveling at the growth Bernice had already accomplished I was not feeling so great about the way my body had grown after having my baby. When I got pregnant I felt like I was going through puberty and after I had given birth it felt the same but possibly more intense. I felt like I was wearing a sweater that was stretched out in all the wrong places all the time. All the changes to my body making it seem unfamiliar in a negative way... but I have started to fall in love with myself again now.

This morning I found this amazing image:

 

And I said damn right.

And I started to think of myself in the context of the image... 

Then this morning on my daily (semi-daily) call to my mother we talked about how I left the house without ANY makeup on without realizing it. She told me about the first time anyone had seen her outside our family without eye makeup on a couple weeks ago at work. We laughed and laughed and she stated she was surprised no one actually said anything.

"Do you know why, Mom?" I asked, then continued, "Because you are so much more to them. You take care of their kids."

And then I thought of myself in the context of my own statement.

Bernice coo'ed from the backseat to us and our speakerphone conversation.

I finished the call and my errands all the while thinking. Letting it all sink in. All the beauty the universe had just shown me in myself, my mother, and the other ladies in my life--and the day wasn't even half over.

I think my husband noticed I was 'different' today before I realized it myself. He unsolicitedly looked me in the eye mid-conversation at lunch and said "You are so beautiful."

He says it all the time, but... damn. This time it hit me. He ALWAYS means it, but only this one time had I finally accepted it for once.

I went home and put on a bikini.

I felt like a 'reset' button had been hit inside me. 

I felt like I grew into my skin today... the sweater fits perfectly ;o)

I felt beautiful today. With no makeup on and without a shower (and I was pooped on, today PEOPLE!).

I felt beautiful.

Because I am so much more than tight-fitting skin. I am a beautiful person, woman, wife, mother and daughter.

Hundreds of Days

 Hundreds of days have passed since Bernice has been born (230). So much has happened and she has changed and grown so much.
You know that feeling you get when you go out to eat at a restaurant and you get the bill at the end? The feeling that maybe something might not add up right; you've been overcharged somehow.
That's the best example I can give you of the feeling I get when I look at these two pictures:

The first photo of Bernice, and the latest I took today (below, obvs).

I look back at all the photos we have taken of her, the hundreds of days documented and remembered. Vividly remembered. It's all there. It all adds up... somehow. All the changes, so gradual and yet so THERE. So visible.

It's sad and sweet. And I remember it all. I feel so blessed to say I remember it all.

Christmas Cake 2013

Christmas is here...

Dried Flower Memories

Being a parent immerses you into some deep places sometimes. Not necessarily dark, but deep.

I saw some pictures of myself when I was 11 and 12 this week and it makes me realize I vividly remember some VERY old memories. I remember looking that way.
In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now.

I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything.
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.

I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.

It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on.

Break over!

Quietly, I took a break last month from blogging. I didn't mean to and I didn't announce it nor did I plan it. I wrote a couple posts before I stopped in October and I realized they kind of stained the vibe of the blog like ink water spots on crisp white paper.
I took a step back, realized that yes, I was going through a bit of postpartum depression, and that forcing myself to blog was making me over-analyze my feelings. So I stopped writing, continued living, and worked on letting myself feel what I felt and then moving on (all the while knowing better than the chemical imbalance in my brain) and now it's over. I feel good again. Happy for no reason, even!

It ceased last month right before our beloved ferret, Noni, passed away. She was always the symbol of my emotional duplicity in my dreams. Usually she would help me work through the process of unifying myself between the channels of heart and mind; sometimes she would show me that I was tearing myself apart and that although I was fine for the moment, I could not truly live that way. She reminded both Shawn and I of a weasel, or a little otter.
The night after she died I dreamed that I was sitting on a bench in front of a fountain. In the middle of the fountain there was a bit of land with a large tree. An otter was standing under the tree and I looked to her. She dove into the water and came out on the other side in front of me and I stood up from the bench. She held out her paw: she had a snail with the brightest white shell I had ever seen. She ate the snail and handed me the shell.
It was as if I understood her, and she understood me.

I knew Noni was finally at peace. I knew she was OK wherever she was now and that I would be OK, too. I must remember my true self, who I am, and continue navigating life at my own pace.