My Beautiful Body


I remember the “complex” I developed during my third trimester of pregnancy. My hair was amazingly beautiful but I was “over it” as it related to the other side effects of pregnancy. My skin had broken out in hives, my nose was huge, and overall I felt extremely unattractive. (The only other plus besides the hair was the humongous boobs I developed). However, I kept my sanity by thinking about the body I would have once my son actually arrived. Weeks after his birth, I couldn’t help but to look at my naked body and feel so disappointed. My stomach was dark. I developed stretch marks on the left side of my body. I was unhappy. The more I nursed him the more I changed. I dropped so much weight that people believed I was sick. I was ugly. At least, to me. As the months passed I stared at this beautiful boy and this flawed body… finding the perfect medium. I gradually learned to accept the “mom body” because this body told a story of God’s splendor. I carried and birthed a dream.

Recently, I cam across Jade Beall’s “a Beautiful Body Project” and was secretly jealous that it wasn’t discovered during my own difficult time. Regardless, I assume that it may be inspiring and comforting for others who have (or may) experience the insecurity that pregnancy can bring. How amazing is it that we can learn to love ourselves for who we are and who we may become? I wanted to share this with you all in hopes that you can share it with someone else. Click on the link and enjoy!


Below are some of the inspiring images of beautiful mom’s that participated in the project : )

_JTB9477     A Beautiful Body Project | Leticia Valverdes    Alyson, by Jade Beall   “I am very marked by the experiences maternity have brought me. Actually, I am acutely aware that perhaps those are the most remarkable experiences I will ever have in my life, the most significant.I became pregnant for the first time at 14yrs old and my first daughter was born two days after my fifteenth birthday. How could I not be marked by this experience? While many friends were enjoying their debutante parties, I was learning to take care of a little girl I had not expected. I lived all the consequences of being a single mother and teenager in a sexist society. I was judged in every way, victimised by some, demonised by others. I carried with me the rejection and loneliness of an unwanted pregnancy and especially the mark of the guilt I felt for not having loved my daughter from the very beginning. As a great outcome I suffered an unnecessary C-section and inhumane hospital care, absolutely alienating and perverse. Still in the hospital, cut and sewn, I was discouraged from breastfeeding by the nurses who said I was too young for such responsibility and, among themselves talked of the pity they felt to see a fifteen-year-old “loose” her youth in such a sad way. I never received congratulations on the birth of that little girl, she was not planned for me, she was not dreamed by my family.Yes, people were sad for me. And that's the biggest and baddest mark that I have from my first experience as a mother. Twelve years have passed and during all this time, I’ve struggled to give a new meaning to my relationship with motherhood, with my daughter and to myself. We built another form of love, another way of being mother and daughter, but the scar of the imposed cesarean still burned in my body and soul.Then in a wonderful period of my life, in a respectful and happy relationship, I had the opportunity to experience another pregnancy, this time carefully planned. From that phase I bring the most intense and transformative memories, I destroyed and rebuilt myself many times during this second pregnancy. Cried all the sadness of that first stolen labour, I let go off the fear of not being a good mother, of not being able ... I forgave the rejection and loneliness experienced previously and allowed my family to also transform themselves with me. And, even though I can not relive and change what happened before, I could turn into a new mother to my oldest daughter and change the present, accept that I did what was within my limits at that moment and I can always be better now. The thirty-eight weeks I spent with my second child growing inside me were magic, I felt cared for, supported and loved by those who accompanied me. I could share the changes week by week with my husband who showed his love for me in many different ways during this period. And it was then that I could actually die to my past. In a quick and intense labour of about two hours I had my second daughter at home in the early hours of a Sunday waning moon full of symbolism and astral messages. I was accompanied by spectacular professionals who knew how to speak and be silent precisely when necessary, and so I could receive my daughter without any intervention in the bathroom at home, by candlelight, supported by my husband. My second daughter was born in her own time and was received with respect, but also with her arrival, I was also reborn. The birth was a redemption for me, a test of my ability as a mother and woman. It was actually a portal of healing and transcendence. I thank my daughters for having chosen me as their mother and for giving me the opportunity to learn to be a better person. I thank the women who shared their experiences with me, they taught me, welcomed me and looked after me in the pregnant women groups, in the feminist groups and during childbirth. Finally, I thank my husband for the strength and love that he was able to demonstrate from the very start. We are finally a family reborn. I'm finally a woman who accepts the marks of life.” Denise and Surya



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