Her

Pre- children her stomach was the least favourite part of her body. She thought her belly button was always too big and the scars from her teen piercing unflattering.

That was closely followed by her legs due to varicose veins which worsened as she played more sport in her early twenties.

Then there was her hair. It was always so thin, and never parted where she wanted it to.

And the pre-children version of her would have been alarmed by this new version of her, had they met.

A version that came with her becoming a mother.

A version that was not was not normalised.

A version that she was not prepared for.

Her stomach now marked with the lashings of growth, her belly button the tightest part of it all.

Her legs now covered in purple rivers that flow from her hips to her ankles, the banks forever trying to burst in the heat.

Her hair now lost not thin, parting no way but with her head.

But thankfully they didn’t meet.

And thankfully the her now is not the her then.

The her now has changed in every way possible, and has moved inward to what really matters,

Her heart, her mind, what her body gave her.

She’s trying to normalise the new parts of her for herself and for her children,

Because they are the sum, the result, the full price paid for age, for sacrifice, for this sort of forever love.

And most of all she realises that by honouring herself now, she’s also honouring them forever.

Because without the new that she now wears, she wouldn’t have them, the new life she created, not now or forever.

I knew her then.

And I know her now.

Because I am her.

But they only know her now, not then.

So I choose to honour her now.

I choose to show her.

I choose to love her now and forever.

Because she’s given me most.

She’s given me my forevers.

NB: My her will look different to your her. Like your her will look different to mine. Let’s not compare. Our own “her” will always come with insecurities relative to her own story.