Finding Beauty in My Scars

I read a wonderful essay tonight about finding strength in the scars life has left you. I’ve heard the thought before, but tonight it actually touched my heart. I began to cry while reading it—partially from shame at how I’ve thought about and treated my own body, and partially from relief that there is a different way to think.

As I stepped out of the shower tonight, with the house quiet in the aftermath of bedtime and the subsequent sneaking-out-of-bed rituals, I stood still and looked in the mirror. It’s something I avoid doing unless there’s a reason. I check my breasts monthly in the mirror; I use the mirror to help me remove unwanted hair, cover blemishes, check outfits and hairdos. But rarely do I simply stand naked in front of my mirror and look. It’s not usually a pleasant experience for me. Most women I’ve ever met would probably agree with me. We think we know quite well what we look like, thank you very much. We much prefer the view with the help of clothing and accessories.

But I discovered I was quite wrong about many things. For years, I’ve been ashamed of my scars. Mostly they’re stretch marks. They cover the sides of my breasts, my hips, the tops of my thighs, and most of my abdomen. Most are from pregnancy, but not all. The ones on my breasts and hips started in puberty. That delirious/horrific/beautiful transformation from girl to woman. At the time, I didn’t think much of them. They were tiny and always covered by even the swimsuits I wore.

Years later, when Z-man and I married, the birth-control pills I used caused some changes that resulted in a few more stretch marks. Still nothing I thought much about. Occasionally I’d notice them and grimace a little. But life went on quite well despite them.

During the first rocky years of our marriage, I gained quite a bit of weight, and some more stretch marks. These bothered me more, but since they faded and were hidden when I lost the weight, I was able to shove the thought of them aside as our relationship improved and my joy and contentment increased.

But the long, ragged, and obvious stretch marks, along with other scars, stretching, and changes that came with each pregnancy have been much harder to set aside or come to terms with.

Tonight I got much closer. I stood naked and really looked at my body and the scars it carries. And I listened to the sweet silence of happy children sleeping, and knew the scars were worth it. The ones from Zippy are nearly faded, the ones from Munchkin are mostly white, and the ones from Little Man—the ones that reach up to my ribs and down my legs—are still pink more than a year and a half after he was born. Each stage tells a story, and I can look at them and tell you with some accuracy what was going on and how I felt when they spread to each point.

And for the first time in years I can feel at peace with my body and what I have gained from it.

My hands that look much like my mother’s—even down to veins beginning to show in the same places—link me to her in a tangible, ever-present way that I am grateful for.

My height and slightly unique proportions of leg to torso reflect the strength and power of my father.

The extra weight, the stretched skin, the sagging and drooping and spreading of various parts and places testify that I have lived; I have loved and been loved; I have borne children, held and fed and nurtured them; I have fallen to my knees diving for balls and pleading to my Heavenly Father.

At this moment, on this night, I can truly say, were the chance offered to me, I wouldn’t trade my body for anyone else’s. I will certainly try to become and stay healthy. I will probably lose and gain weight many more times before I am done. I will hide many of the scars, lift the sags, and keep my body private as it should be. But I will also attempt to capture this feeling of peace, of contentment, of acceptance as I move forward through all those things. And I will catalog each new scar or change as proof that I accomplished what I was meant to. That I experienced joy and pain and sorrow and beauty—and lived through it all.

Powerless

School is out!! Fewer routines, no more crazy Wednesday afternoons, no homework or permission slips, no lunches to make or feel guilty about not making. And oh yeah--and extra kid to entertain all day long every day. Hmmm.

My goal this summer is to use the TV and computer to entertain the kids as LITTLE as possible. Which means that I have to have a plan. A good plan. A plan full of fun things to do that will take more than 30 seconds to complete. A plan that the kids will want to participate in and that can entertain a wide range of ages and attention spans. (And don't even try to guess who has the longest attention span. We're probably both wrong.) Does this sound daunting to anyone else but me?

So, I'm trying to come up with a list of things that we can do together that don't require power (i.e. electricity). Hopefully that will keep us away from screens of all kinds for the majority of our days. I'll list a few here, but if anyone has any more to add, I could really use some ideas.

1. Reading (during the daytime we don't have to use lights to do this)

2. Hook up the hose--sprinkler not necessarily required

3. Begin a pen-pal relationship between the kids and their cousins

4. Visit the playground 1/2 block from our front door

5. Bike rides

6. Gardening--harvest everything I've planted so it doesn't go to waste this year

7. Playdough (it takes electricity to make, but we're not counting that--just because)

8. Mess around with craft supplies--see what we can come up with

9. Puzzles

10. Make our own musical instruments

11. Write with pen/pencil and paper--there's still something magic about this to me

12. Feed the ducks that have taken up residence in the canal

Obviously, this list won't get me through the whole summer. But it's a start. Here's to a mostly powerless few months--and hopefully some sanity left at the end of it.

Busy, Busy

Last Saturday, Zippy had another tae kwon do test. He did GREAT!! He focused well, answered his questions quickly, and did great on his form. I'm so terribly proud of him!

That same day, Mom took Zippy, Munchkin, and me to see Seussical! We've been listening to the songs for years, and the kids were out of their minds excited to see the show. It was wonderful!! I couldn't believe how well they behaved, but I shouldn't have been surprised. The show was so wonderfully done, they couldn't take their eyes off the stage. Munchkin is still singing the songs and talking about the Cat in the Hat. Zippy has been bragging to everyone he can get to listen to him all week long. Thanks Grandma!!!

Monday I registered Munchkin for ballet in the fall. She has been begging for it for months, and I just couldn't put it off any longer. I'm nearly as excited as she is. I can't wait to see her dance--she's gonna love it! She asked, very politely, if she could go look in the dance room, and could barely contain herself when the studio owner said yes. She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed into the dark studio. She did a couple experimental twirls and admired herself in the mirrors. Oh my, she's going to just die when it's time for classes to start. As we were leaving, she asked if I would buy her the dance shoes and clothes that she needed for her birthday. That just about sent me off the edge. My preschooler is so excited to dance that she's willing to give up birthday presents to get what she needs to do it. Is this my daughter or what?

All of this certainly keeps us busy as bees. And right now, I'm loving it.

Hiding Places

Where do you go when you want to get away from the pressures of life, family, work, etc?

In the past, it’s been an actual, physical place for me.

In high school, my favorite place to hide was a specific tree in a local park. It was relatively easy to climb, and had magnificent views of sky and mountains. If I kept my eyes focused up, I could easily imagine I was alone in the world. No worries, no demands, no expectations. With the rough bark of the tree linking me to the ground below, I felt as if I could stretch up and touch the sky.

At home, I also did a lot of hiding in my room. I hid so much that my younger brother once tried to invent a system to talk to me while I was down there. He drew wonderful pictures of a very loud intercom system so that the rest of the family could get my attention no matter how deep in a book my nose was lodged.

During the first part of my marriage to the Z-man, there was a bench hidden in some trees on the edge of a park on BYU campus that I claimed as my own. It was a popular park during the day, but this particular bench was away from the most popular areas. Partially hidden by trees, yet near enough to open spaces and walkways that the seclusion was not dangerous. The exact location of this bench is one that I’ve never revealed. Not even when I was using it nearly daily. It was vital to me that I have a place where no one could track me down. A place where I was not wife, or daughter, or sister, or student, or employee. I was simply me. I could be alone—completely alone. I cherished the moments I was able to steal on that bench. It was dirty, sometimes cold. There was no back on the bench, and sometimes I sat there until my back ached and my legs fell asleep. But it was mine in a very real way. Whenever pressure would mount or my emotions would rise, I would feel myself pulled to my hiding place.

For the years I was working full-time, I used my bathroom as a reprieve nearly every Sunday night. I would turn on music loud enough to not hear Z-man knocking about in the apartment, turn off the lights, and soak in a hot bath until my skin wrinkled. I could shove aside the worries of the week past and the week to come, and let my mind flow with the music.

I have to admit that since having children, my hiding places have disappeared. It is rare indeed that I am ever alone. Even with Z-man’s new schedule, when I am seemingly alone, I am still in charge. Should someone need me, I have to be there and available. I can’t block out the world, or my worries, or the pressures that come with it. Sometimes, if the stars align just right, I can get close to that when I can run without the kids. But even then, I still have the dog, and must be aware of the world around me and the time that is passing. My only true escape right now exists in those few precious moments before I fall asleep. In those moments when my body and mind are shutting down for the night, the kids are usually asleep, the house is as clean as it is going to get, and no one is currently expecting action from me. During those moments, I can be whoever, wherever I want to be. I can drift where my mind would take me, or I can direct my thoughts toward a dream or longing that has been simmering behind reality. Some days, I find myself longing for bedtime just to have those moments to refresh my soul. Amidst wiping faces, sweeping floors, changing diapers, shuttling carpool, refereeing fights, and appeasing large personalities, I have to remind myself that those moments will come.

Some days I still consider locking myself in the bathroom. But I have to admit it’s much less effective with little fingers poking under the door and larger ones rattling the doorknob.

So I’d love to hear from all of you. Where do you hide—how do you revive your heart and soul and sense of self? Perhaps I can use one of your ideas as my own.

Run, Mommy, Run

For those of you who wondered, I didn't make it to the Race for the Cure on Saturday. Munchkin got the stomach flu, and so we were homebound all weekend. Which means, unfortunately, that I don't get to share any of the wonderful, hilarious, witty slogans which abound at such events. The one time each year when breast jokes are in good taste, and I miss it. Sigh.

On a happier note, that means I have more time to train to actually run a 5k. My brother has graciously agreed to find another event to run with me this summer.

I did run this morning. I'm quite proud of my progress. I can run farther and even a little faster now.

While I was running, I had to smile at myself (laughing being out of the question due to gasping and wheezing). I was listening to the playlist I had prepared for the actual race. And it just made me smile. It's a weird and eclectic grouping of a number of different genres. Everything from alternative rock, to punk/pop, to Hullabaloo.

What, you don't know who Hullabaloo is?

They are, in their own words, "farm-fresh, free-range, organic kid-folk." You can check them out here. They are fabulous, and funny, and witty. And my kids love them! My favorite song of theirs to run to is called "Run Bunny Run." You have to find it and listen to it. Most days, I feel like I'm the bunny. Although, I have to admit to sounding more like the older brother. And, if I'm being honest, I'm also frequently the younger brother. Especially if another adult happens to stray too close to me. (Please talk to me, please, please, PLEEEEEEEEASE!!!)

But whatever the reason, it made me smile at myself as I moved from Muse to "Run Bunny Run" while running this morning. I think I'll just adjust the lyrics ever so slightly in my mind. Run Mommy Run.

I Looked Out The Window

And what did I see?

Popcorn popping in the apricot tree.

Spring had brought me such a nice suprise,

Blossoms popping right before my eyes.

Welcome, Spring! I'm glad you've finally decided to visit us.

Feel free to stick around just as long as you want!

Oh The Insanity

Have you ever felt a compulsion to do something absolutely insane for no good reason? Or at least no reason that you could adequately explain to someone else?

Apparently, I have. I am training to run a 5K. There's really not a good reason beyond that I feel I must prove to myself that I can do this. Which is a great motivator until I'm actually out running. Or, rather, jogging ever-so-slightly-faster than I walk.

I don't have any visions of grandeur, or winning, or even ever running very fast. That would be ridiculous. But then again, I already feel ridiculous gasping along the trail, yelling at Zippy to not go too far, urging Munchkin to keep up, and trying to keep the dog from pulling the stroller into the canal.

I can now do about 1/2 mile all at once. I can even do a couple 1/2 miles with just a little walking in between. But the 5K I want to run is in less than 4 weeks. I'm panicking a little. But I refuse to give up. Even if I end up walking parts of the race, I need to do this.

I roped my little brother into running with me. I have the feeling that, even though he started training after I did, and probably has less time to run between school and working, he'll kick my trash when we run together. It's a good thing we love each other. He'll forgive me for making him train to run while he's in school, and I'll forgive him for being younger, faster, and in better shape than me. It's a good trade.

This is one of those goals that seems to come out of nowhere, and really doesn't make sense. But it's a goal that is a driving force in my life right now. I have passion and desire to meet this goal, and I can't afford to waste it. Who knows, maybe after I meet this one, I'll actually be inspired to work on the rest that are languishing in my never-ending pile of "things I REALLY should be doing."

So, I want to know. What goal (whether seemingly impossible and insane or not) is stirring your passion right now? And what other ones are you ignoring?