I saw myself for the first time in seven months and twenty-five days. I got out of the shower, dried off, and for the first time in almost eight months I didn’t hurry and grab my bra. Instead I looked in the mirror. I saw how my stomach has stretch marks longer than highways. I saw how even though I’m below my pre pregnancy weight my stomach still doesn’t look as flat. I saw how my breast no longer held themselves up perfectly like they used to, instead they looked like water balloons. I saw how my thighs looked as if someone stuffed cotton into them making them bulkier. I saw how under my eyes had craters so big I could hold water in them.

I felt myself get weak and I hurried and put clothes on. I felt the urge to throw up and hide myself away. Then I heard it. The loudest voice I could ever imagine yelling “MAMA MAAAAAAMAAA MAMAMAMA.” I picked my son up from his bed and cradled him in my arms as he ate from the breast I just scolded myself about and he touched the bags under my eyes. And he smiled while eating. I started to cry because I felt so beautiful in front of him. I felt a way that even my wonderful husband couldn’t make me feel. I know every little thing about me that has changed is worth it. I’m thankful for everything. Even though it’s hard at times I’m so thankful that my stomach has stretch marks and my breast are sagging. I love it. Because I was part of a miracle. I honestly hope that everyone can see how beautiful they are. It took an almost 8 month old smiling at me to realize that what my husband has been telling me is true. My body is beautiful because it has been used for the best miracle ever.