Warrior Scars
I need to say something.
It’s a little off my normal topics. I may even need to use off-color language.
I read this article found on a blog that an old acquaintance had mentioned as being hilarious. I am sure it was meant to be funny… one of those “here’s me be super real and in a funny way so that you can feel more normal about yourself” kind of things. This woman talked about the state of her body after having 4 children: gravity-stricken and shriveled breasts, the state of her “lady town,” her muffin-top tummy, varicose veins...
And yep, this stuff is all a part of growing older and having children.
But I gotta be honest. As I was reading this, it made me angry.
If your husband was to go to war and come home with scars, would you love him more or less??
Why is it that when we do this crazy bold thing—carry life in our bellies, push that life out into the world in the most excruciating and courageous way, nourish our babies from our very own breasts—somehow we think ourselves less beautiful???
We carry life! We nourish life. We raise life, mold it and shape it. And when we look in the mirror and see our fluffy bellies, our C-section scar, our saggier breasts, our dark circles under our eyes, the veins on our legs, our stretch marks... somehow all we see is ugly?!?! We can’t see the battle scars, the marks of an overcomer, a warrior woman?! Blessed with children? Blessed with life?
We see our perineal scars, our bladder that never works the same, our stretched out hoo-hoo… and somehow see ourselves as LESS than what we used to be… less deserving of the love of our man?! Somehow more insecure?
Um…
You catching my drift?!
You, dear one, are beautiful. No, not young, and not without scars. But your age is your royal garment, your children are your crown.
As mothers, we make a mark on the world—one we make with our own bodies, on our own bodies. We give life. We carry it, birth it, nourish it, stay up all hours of the night comforting it, we instill Jesus, kiss boo-boos, teach how to live. We! Women! How crazy amazing and beautiful is our high calling?!
{Psst… Please don’t hear me as putting down anyone who would choose to work away from the home, or that motherhood is somehow the end all high calling and there is no other.}
Somehow our society likes to separate the hard parts about life from the gifts that come with it, slap a label on the complaining and call it “being real,” and make it scary, ugly, horrifying. I hear women adamantly refusing to breastfeed because of what it might do to their bosoms, women terrified to age, women actually opting for the 3+ week recovery time of a c-section just so everything stays tight in their lowers… Women who are terrified of being ugly.
Women who think age and child-bearing is ugly.
Is this not upside down?! Twisted?! Horrible?! Maybe even narcissistic?!
Could we please stop allowing society to feed us the lies of what beautiful looks like?
Could we please start seeing ourselves as beautiful, sexy, strong warriors again?!
I know there are some underlying society issues that could take some of the blame: like single parenthood, divorce rate, pornography addiction epidemic to name a few. And I’m not exactly sure what the answer is. But perhaps, it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to start by seeing our God-given gifts in our scars and passing this feeling of self-worth, this warrior-woman, look-at-what-I-get-to-do spirit onto our daughters… for didn’t the greatest gift the world ever received leave behind scars?
{By the way, remind me I wrote this when I get closer to my 30th birthday milestone. I may need to remember this again when I start to complain of aging and gray hairs and a slowing metabolism.}
{Could I just add a little clarification in case this isn’t super clear? I really want to make sure you hear my heart: it’s not to stir up controversy; it’s not to make a woman feel terribly who doesn’t want children or chooses not to breastfeed. Really, my heart is just to offer a different perspective through which to see your postpartum body—that you are beautiful, a warrior, worthy of honor.}
Alright, your turn. What do you think??
By Grace,
Amanda
By Grace,
Amanda