Who I am.

I've been thinking lately about how much these three little boys just consume my life. And in fact, "consume" isn't even the right word. It implies there's a life aside from them.

They are my life.

First thing in the morning, all through the day, last thing before I fall asleep and every little grunt and whimper throughout the night. They are my first thought, every time, before any choice or decision is made. And at this point in my life, as a stay-at-home-mom to these 3 small boys, I really feel that am pretty much completely inseparable from my identity as: Mommy.

So the past few days I've been thinking a lot about pregnancy and birth, what is means to be a mother, and identity & self-image....

And honestly, it's fairly easy to see what a beautiful miracle pregnancy is - and how amazing our God is to create such perfect, tiny, complete beings within us. And it's absolutely impossible to ignore what a beautiful miracle a brand new baby is.

It can be harder, however, to find the "beautiful miracle" in the post-baby body of the mom.

Things are loose. Things are leaking. Things are scarred - and some changes will never be reversed. My hair is frizzy and undone, and I now always have some kind of spot on my clothing somewhere. Whatever sun-kissed glow I once had is long gone and has been replaced by pasty skin, coupled with almost purple bags under my ever-tired eyes.

And it helps to remember what an amazing thing my body just did: carrying, nourishing, and giving birth to a brand new tiny person. But... it doesn't change the reflection in the mirror.

So I have been trying (and will continue to try) to remember.

Try to remember that I am more than any one thing. I am more than my name or my job. I am more than my thoughts or accomplishments for the day. I am more than my words and more than my actions. I am more than just me or just a wife or just a mother. And I am more than my reflection.

We were made to have children. God knew it would change us. The way we love, the way we think, the way we live, and the way we look.

There's a passage in a small book I have for new mother's where the author writes: "I don't know from where it came, but a comforting thought swooped in to nurture my soul today. Not only is my baby made in the image of God (that's an easy connection!), but so am I!"

And on the days ahead when I know it will be particularly difficult to accept some of the many "flaws" that I can readily point out on my body, I will try hard to remember that. And also this small poem, entitled Stretchmarks:

"A mark for every breath you took, every blink, every sleepy yawn. One for every time you sucked your thumb, waved hello, closed your eyes and slept in the most perfect darkness. One for every time you had the hiccups. One for every dream you dreamed within me. It isn't very pretty anymore. Some may even think it ugly. That's OK. It was your home. It's where I first grew to love you, where I lay my hand as I dreamed about who you were and who you would be. It held you until my arms could, and for that, I will always find something beautiful in it."

I will try to remember that I am "fearfully and wonderfully made." And I am more.

Our Beautiful Gifts