9 months on--9 months off?

124.
That is what I weighed the day I went to the doctor to find out i was with child. Over the past 18 months (18 months?!?) I have watched my weight reach heights I never imagined and then return to a relative state of normalcy after Austen made her exit.

Let me tell ya something. They say 9 months on, 9 months off--pssh. Let me clarify. Some things. Will. Never. Be. The. Same.

I will never forget mustering the courage to lift my shirt and inspect my inflated belly for the first time. I think I honestly expected to see Mother theresa or an old man face in the abundance of wrinkles that were surely there. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. Thanks to my new milk-laden boobs, my waist looked surprisingly small. It took a few months for everything to settle into a new definition of normal.

My current weight is just a few pound shy of the number on the scale two Decembers ago. However, my jeans do not fit. My bras do not fit. I have a road map of stretch marks and varicose veins. The truth is....this is the new me. I have real hips now. A body that tells a story.

Now I am not going to sit here and type some mama mantra about how I love my body because it gave birth to my daughter. I am grateful that God provided me with a healthy vehicle to bring her into the world. However, I would not say that I love my newfound muffin top or the loss of the ablity to go bra-less. I can say, however, that I have reached a point of acceptance. This is what I have to work with. My husband likes it, it looks kinda cute dressed up, and it still carries Austen just about everywhere.

As with every single facet of my life, my body did not escape the effects of motherhood. And thats ok. :)