For months I rubbed, no, no, slathered my belly with cocoa butter lotion. The day stretch marks appeared, I cry a little. But as the days to Claire's birth day became fewer, the stretch marks became more numerous. I was pretty sure that God was punishing me for being vain about my skin. My secret vanity, my smooth creamy skin, void of any stretch marks ANYWHERE!
Claire is here, the porclein cream skin is gone and all that remains is the ridged and purple evidence of carrying a child. My whole belly, some of my upper thigh, and some of my back are FOREVER changed.
Being a woman, and watching too many episodes of "Keeping up with the Kardashians" has made me very critical of my mediocre appearance, and those stretch marks have made me very self conscious.
The only people who see them are Brandon, Claire and me, but I still feel very ugly. A few days ago I jokingly explained to Claire that she was in my belly four months ago and showed her the stretch marks. I said, "See how much mommy loves you? These are my love marks." Of course the epiphany I just had made me bawl, because really, why wouldn't I bawl. I always do! My stretch marks are a part of me now. They are not ugly signs of fatness, but my own personal mark of love.
P.S. No pictures taken of the stretch marks. Just because I have come to terms with them doesn't mean you want to see them and then have to go to therapy. I can't afford to send you all to a therapist.