Today was the dreaded day. I finally went pant shopping.
I had been living in yoga pants, denim jeggings and high-waisted leggings ever since I had our second baby. Every week I was telling myself that I was going to fit into those pre-pregnancy jeans hanging in my closet but I couldn't. So it was time to go shopping.
There I stood in the denim womens department staring at all of the choices. What type of jean would I fit in now? My body is different than it ever was before. So what did I do? I grabbed every style, in every brand, and in every size 8 to 16. I told myself I wouldn't look at the size while in the fitting room. I would try on each pair and buy the ones that made me feel best.
Standing in the fitting room, stripped down to my undies, I allowed myself to look over my body under those terrible fluorescent lights. I noticed every new dimple, the dreaded c section pouch, the four inch scare and every bright pink stretch mark. Whose body was this? I started to think about how every mother must dread the first post pregnancy jean shopping trip and at that moment there were probably women all over the world, staring in the mirror, over analyzing their post pregnancy body.
I took another look at my body and suddenly felt a sense of pride. That body was the one that spent nine months growing a perfect human. That body was stretched to its max to make a comfy home for my baby. That body was the one that got me through three months of bedrest. That body lied on an operating table where it was cut open in order to remove a human being. That body is the one that regulated a newborn's body temperature. That body is the one that produces all the nutrients my baby boy needs to survive. That body is the body of a mom. My mom bod.
I took a deep breath and began trying on jeans. The first pair wouldn't budge over my new curvier hips. The second pair wouldn't button over the new c-section pouch. But the third pair was the perfect fit. I felt good and I surprisingly loved my new curves in these jeans. I took them off to look at the size. My new size. A size larger than I expected.
Am I the size I want to be? No! Is my body in the shape I want it to be? No! But today I grew a new appreciation for that body. My body is powerful. My stretch marks and c section scar tell a story of a journey I took to create two baby boys. That body made me a mom and being called mom is the greatest title I'll ever have.