Trade-offs

At times (well, a lot of the time) I find myself having a hard time with the changes that have occured in my body, post-babies.

For instance, after I get out of the shower and I bend over to wrap my hair in the towel, I hardly think it's fair that I'm forced to view my stomach flab slowly stretching its way toward the floor like warm saltwater taffy.

Is it right that while dressing, I have to practically scoop my bosoms off my belly to tuck them into the cups of my "functionality-overrules-sexuality, therefore-I-wear-beige" bra, and then pull, poke and prod until they have a proper shape? Definitely not.

If I was filthy rich, I imagine I would probably end up finding my way into the office of Dr. Rey (from Dr. 90210) to have him reconstruct the destructed...but then again, if I look at my body with a different mindset, I can actually kind of see the beauty in the changes of my body. The stretchmarks, the sagging, the veins, the scars...they're all a part of a story.

My story.

One that started with me believing I would never be one of the fortunate millions who are able to conceive. That story took a surprising turn 6 years ago when I was surprised to learn I was pregnant for the first time, and has concluded with 4 healthy, happy kids.

I FELT each of those babies in my womb.
I FELT the flutters, the kicks, the hiccups, the heartburn and the weight gain for each and every one of those little babies that (rather violently) made their entrance into the world.

In the end, I traded a youthful bosom for a little girl whose eye color matches mine.

I traded a taut stomach for a little boy whose personality mirrors mine almost identically.

I traded skin with no scars or stretchmarks for 4 amazing kids who inherited my stumpy little short legs and long torso.

I traded a cooperative bladder and the ability to jump on a trampoline or sneeze without crossing my legs for a little girl who looks like I did as a baby.

I traded legs unscathed by varicose veins for 8 adorable little feet that look exactly like their Daddy's feet.

Though I miss my pre-baby body, I'd trade it all over again in a heartbeat. These are MY battlescars. And I earned every last one of them, whether I like them or not.

And now that I'll never again feel the thrill of a life being formed inside me, I find myself surprised to realize...I'M NOT BABY HUNGRY!!!! When I'm around other people's newborns and I'm reminded of the constant care and helplessness, I smile and realize how glad I am to be done with that stage. I love babies, but I am glad to have my kids growing more independent by the day. I'm happy to not get any new, painful battlescars, no matter how sweet the baby is when it's born.

I have 4 great kids, and I'm happy with that. They'll all be close friends (since they're under 5 years apart) and I'll have energy to be a fun grandma.

So goodbye skinny youthfulness. You were great while you lasted.