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She holds all of me

She holds all of me

I have put my body through hell and back. I have starved her, overfed her, hurt her, shamed her, hid her, ridiculed her, rejected her. I didn’t take care of her. She expressed what raged on the inside by shapeshifting, transforming into everything between an extra small and an extra large. I saw her through eyes full of what we as a society are taught to think of as desirable, setting impossible standards for her. No matter how she looked, she was never good enough, never beautiful to my eyes. I never appreciated the magic that goes on in my body, for her to be able to carry me from one moment to the next. Yet she never complained and simply continued to hold me through every heartbeat that is this life. 

Then babies happened. For the last five years (and counting) my body has been creating or nourishing a baby, for a challenging season even both at the same time. She first held space for Erza, then Beau and then Milo. The unspeakable miracle of life growing and moving inside of me, left me in awe of her and gave me more joy than I could ever have imagined. When it was time to bring my sons earth-side, I had to let go of my sense of self, trust my body and flow with the force of her. She knew what to do. I didn’t. It wouldn’t surprise me if the power that is unleashed in a female’s body while giving birth, shakes and shifts and tilts our earth’s trajectory around the sun, forever changing our solar system and the world as we know it. Because the amount of pain my body was able to endure to see my boys safely into my arms was momentous. And instantly she went from tsunami’s of pain to creating lifegiving nourishment for my babies. As the days become weeks and then months, my sons drank golden milk from my body and I watched in amazement as they doubled in size and went from fragile newborns to wildly alive baby humans. She gave me the gift of never-ending – all consuming – life changing – love, not just once but three times and I get to carry this treasure in my heart for as long as I walk this earth. After birthing Ezra and Beau she healed herself smoothly and life went on, even as my heart and soul were still healing from those few hours that forever changed the course of my life. My healing journey after Milo has been rougher. During his first three months I was in so much pain. This body I thought I knew scared me immensely. For too many days I couldn’t imagine a life where she felt like a pleasant place to be anymore. I had asked so much off her and she had given it to me. She was bone tired, depleted,  but committed to give the little I had to my newest baby. There was hardly anything left to sustain my healing. In the darkest of days, wise women reached out to me and shined their light. They told me Milo’s birth heralded a sacred transformation, a bigger leap than I had taken before on my journey. For me to become more of me, it was time to deeply cleanse and shed layers upon layers of old pain, limiting conditioning, outdated scripts and hurtful stories I told about myself. I learned that my body had carried all that baggage in her cells and she was letting it go, healing herself and clearing the way for a new beginning. It hurt like a @$#^&&^%. In the midst of it all my doula Siri Amrit gave me the gift of an ancient healing prayer, the ho’oponopono

I love you
I am sorry
Please forgive me
Thank you

I whispered these words to my body.
She told me she need time.
So I am giving it to her.
She told me she needs grace.
So I am giving it to her.
She told me she needs love.
So I am giving it to her.
I trust her. She knows what she is doing.

Motherhood changed my relationship with my body. Today, eight months into being a mother of three, my body is still healing, but most of the pain has gone. My heart is still healing, but most of the pain has gone. I look at my body and the blind fold is off, I truly see her for the first time. She shows the signs of life and creation. She is scarred. She is mother nature’s extraordinary masterpiece. She is enough. I am giving her space to become, to take the shape she longs for in this season of my life. Some days I do better than others, but I owe it to her and myself to keep trying. Because I might be more than she, but she holds all of me.  

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