‘For every woman unhappy with her postpartum marks, there is one wishing she had them.’

I was once her, the one. Wishing, dreaming I would have the honor of becoming a mother. Although I never imagined my body would look the way it does now, all this extra skin, stretch marks, sag and wrinkles, it represents the power of the female body and the miracle of going through 2 pregnancies.

I mean let me be honest, not only did both pregnancies suck a whole lot 😂 but childbirth is quite the BRUTAL experience! Sometimes, 😑 or actually most times our bodies change so drastically, it never really bounces back. For some it’s minor, if you want to call blowing up like a balloon minor. (But ok lets go according to society’s standards of what should be minor) 😉 and for others like myself, it’s just beyond repair 😑 unless I decide to cut it off. (which I’m not against btw)

But I promised myself that I would learn to love this body first. It’s been through so much. 😣 2 years of mild hormone treatments including weekly visits to the doctor and lab. Being probed and stabbed only to cry at the end of the month while staring at a negative pregnancy test, over and over again.

Then we moved to 1 year of dangerously high dosages of hormones, monitored weekly with even more blood tests to make sure my levels where safe for ovulation stimulation. (If not monitored carefully, risks of a sudden heart attack where high) we even had 4 months where we had to decide to take the risk of having triplets 😂 but hey when you’re desperately trying for over 2 years. triplets sounds like a dream. (NOT! But I would have taken that chance again anyday)

One week before “that” doctor’s visit I travelled to Bonaire to say my last goodbyes to my aunt who was batteling ALS and eventhough she couldnt speak so easily anymore, she made sure to get one message across. 👼🏻 As my other aunt was injecting me with my daily dose of hormones. She told me: I see you worry. 😟 Don’t. You will have your blessing very soon.

Unfortunately 1 week later the doctor had to inform me of bad news 😔 It took 2.5 years to find the first treatment and more importantly the correct dossage that actually moved my stubborn levels, and then my body started to get used to the hormones and just produced 1 egg. He had to tell me that the next step would mean surgery to drill my ovaries. I won’t lie, I just became numb that day. Not sure if depressed would sum up what I felt. 😭 little did I know, that one egg was Lyla 😍

Fast forward; 2 kids later. how dare I not only have LOVE for this POWERFUL body!

I choose compassion over comparison. 💜 Reminding myself of the strength it took 💪🏼 from the first pink lines to the birth of my children! Reconsider your definition of self-worth and embrace what is so beautifully natural. Be grateful and enjoy the gift of being called mom.