I see her in all her beautiful glory, and wonder.
I see her.
Now I look in the mirror, and I see her again.
I'm young. I know that. I'm still very, very young. But today? Today I feel...not old...but aged somehow. Coen is 5 weeks old, and he's our last. I had surgery this last week to make that "official" and now I look at him, and I think, "Wow. You're it. You're where my mommy stages end." I will grow with them all, now. My cycle of momminess won't start over with another little one, each stage will end as Coen grows.
I'm sure many mothers could read this and think, "Oh, honey, you have NO idea." I'm sure I will look into the mirror many, many times and see another woman standing before me. I know it will happen. I do. But today? Today I looked in that mirror and I no longer saw a young woman.
For the first time in my life, I saw my lines. I saw my scars. I saw my sags, and stretch marks.
I saw my experiences printed like a map upon my body.
I saw myself through the eyes of a younger version of me.
I'm different.
I've changed.
I remember thinking as a child that I wished my mom could just see herself as I saw her. She was so perfect in my eyes, regardless of what she'd been through, how much physical or mental weight she carried, or if she felt her body or her life was lopsided or out of sync.
My mind traveled to those memories today.
There's a certain amount of mourning that has to be done in life, I think. As we grow, certain things happen, or don't happen. Our bodies, like our lives, change in so many ways and sometimes so drastically, that we are forced to look in the mirror and face what we see.
Our eyes will travel along the scars, or the sags, or the areas we find wanting, and we will either accept what we see, or seek to change it to make it better.
The balance comes in knowing when to change, and when to let alone what is already beautiful.
Today, I do. I feel aged. I feel the experiences that have made me who I am. I don't feel weighed down, or broken, but I do feel different somehow. I feel as though a chapter on my life has closed, and the next chapter awaits my arrival. It's difficult to explain, and the mixture of emotions is likewise confusing. But it's there.
It's there.
I hope though, just as I hoped my mom could see, that I will see myself, and my life, as my children do.
"Mom, you're so beautiful."
In all our glory and wonder.
We are; we are beautiful.
