{Loving by Example}

I have realized over time, that the hardest person to love and to accept is many times the girl in the mirror. Not that I'm entirely self deprecating, but I have, as contradictory as it might sound, been self critical to the point of narcissism. I have spent an exorbitant amount of time picking on myself --- Those few extra pounds, my less than perfect complexion, my body shape, the assymetical lines of my face etc.--- you stare long enough, and everything starts looking weird.

In the last 6 months my body has taken a beating --- pregnancy and two major abdominal surgeries since August have left my body in visible shambles, and like I already said, prior to this I already had a problem with self image, and so, as you can imagine, it can go into over-drive if I don't purposefully keep it in check.

Nick is and always has been a spring of encouragement. He tells me that he wishes I could see me the way that he sees me --- and sometimes I think I do --- until that thought is interrupted by the sight of my reflection. I've cried to Nick on more occassions than I care to admit these past 6 months that I feel like a crazed butcher has gotten a hold of me.

My keloid scar from when I was pregnant didn't even have a chance to heal nicely due to the fact I was gaining about an inch around my belly every week during that time, and though my c-section scar has healed nicer in comparison, it's still about a 6 inch slash through my abdomen, and an ever constant reminder of our honestly terrifying birthing story.

The day Brontë came into this world was the most monumental day of our lives, but nothing about it was anything short of terrifying --- I wasn't supposed to have a tumor. I wasn't supposed to need surgery half way through my pregnancy. My water was not supposed to break at 27 weeks. I wasn't supposed to contract an infection. I wasn't supposed to get Brontë sick. She wasn't supposed to come so early. She wasn't supposed to be breech. I wasn't supposed to have a c-section. My body WAS supposed to hold up, instead of crapping out. I'm her mom, and I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO PROTECT HER --- and those heinous scars are the permanent reminders that I couldn't.

But God...

He always knew the plan. He always knew what was SUPPOSED to happen, even though I didn't. He always knew that He would be the one to get us through, and these ugly scars are the beautiful reminders of his provision ---

--- and I choose to love them.

I choose to stop being so self-critical. As her mom, I must lead by example. She is always watching me --- learning behavioral cues --- and before long, she will start to imitate me. I will not teach her to be self deprecating. She will never hear me say that "I'm fat" or "I'm ugly". I will teach her that we are made in the Imago Dei --- the image of God --- We are HIS workmanship -- and OUR reflections are not our own --- they are HIS, and they are lovely. I will choose to love --- by example --- my body, and teach her the perfection of imperfection, the artistry of asymmetry, and the beauty of our scars.