Stretch marks

Scars, blemishes, unwanted body hair, or even freckles are programmed into the average female brain to be undesirable and must be removed or at a minimum, hidden.  If not, you too will be considered “undesirable”.  The pressure begins early in our young lives and entering the door of motherhood does not include a door prize of lax on this ridiculous demand to be blemish free….. and could not come at a worse time.  After giving birth to my daughter, Lynn, I soon came to realize my body was not my own and had been horribly modified to accommodate this bundle of joy.  My hips had expanded with extra poundage, my breasts had transformed from sexually alluring to food machines, and the worst…. Stretch marks.  I remember giving my doctor a good laugh by telling her, “When I look down at my legs, I think, Well, I recognize those.”  I enjoyed motherhood, but what I was experiencing seemed to be the absolute worst hit to my self-esteem and I couldn’t imagine anything worse…. Until I was barren. 

Barrenness can make you crazy.  I found sympathy and relief from women who are long gone but their stories are alive within the breathed word of God.  I began to understand for the first time how Sarah could give another woman to her husband or why Elizabeth hid in seclusion for 5 months once discovering her pregnancy.  Though the public humiliation is not as evident in this culture or day in age, scrutiny and judgment continue to exist as a poke to an already infected wound.  Often, other women of all ages assumed I did not want other children and was some sort of weak women.  Some mothers with many children lamented in rubbing in how I was clueless as to how difficult it was to take care of more than one child.  Poke, poke, poke…. 

A failed adoption came to be the most difficult trial of my life so far.  Suddenly, stretch marks became one of the few pieces of evidence I had for success in becoming a mother.  Once I discovered the Lord opened my womb and bless me with a second child, I laughed and was in disbelief as Sarah did.  I found myself desiring seclusion out of fear that at any moment, I might have this child taken away.  I wasn’t sure if it was wise to share our good news until I was showing when we could feel safe that loosing the baby at that point was unlikely.  As I grew larger, fresh new stretch marks appeared.  Due to the amount of loss I had endured, the stretch marks were not repulsive, but they were Gideon’s. 

Ladies, enjoy your stretch marks!  They are marks only we can bear of our strength and blessings God has given us.  I hope my story inspires a new personal perspective as we all look at ourselves in the mirror seeking to find something familiar.  Instead of looking for the past, embrace the present image and find joy in the marks of your own growing pains.  They bring you closer and closer to women of noble character.

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