Hey! Whats up? It's been a while since we've talked and I figure we should have a chat. See if we can clear the air between us. I know things have been hard between us, but I promise I'm getting better. Just hear me out,ok?
You and I have always had a complicated relationship, almost as long as I can remember. The hair sprouting from your top was so long and thick it hardly ever dried. The arms and legs too long for the middle. I ate and ate but always seemed to look a little sick. For a while there I was even awfully bad at keeping you clean. We were always in trouble together though. Knees scraped after a bicycle fall, fingernails caked with dirt from backyard exploration, arms covered in cat scratches. Childhood was good for us but somewhere along the way I forgot how much I needed you. I even started to hate you.
I was nine years old when you began acting as an adult in many ways. I had no idea how to deal with these cramps and pads and hot water bottles and such. It was overwhelming to be the only one in my class who was needing that extra bathroom break, that trip to the nurse for forgotten "supplies", that embarrassing need for a sweater around the waist. I hated every second of it. I hated you.
A few years later I really understood the reality of living with a dying man. As our father died, you and I changed tactics a bit. I used you to escape and to dull pain. We ran for miles and miles, pushing until feet were sore and bleeding, chest heaving in gasps of breath, sweat pouring in buckets. We ate and ate and ate, climbing from a size 6 to a 12 overnight. We drank and smoked(just once, we hated it) and had many an interesting brownie at a party. I still hated you, but I realized I could use you to feel better, and so I did.
When my father died I wanted nothing to do with having a normal body. Everything else in my life was spinning out of control and I wanted something to have power over. The first time I hurt you was a rush. It felt like the world slowed down and I had the ability to breathe and mourn and live again. The marks I left were like trophies "You took control once, here is the proof". I sought out bad company and shared the pain and loneliness. I latched on to some bad guys who helped me hate you even more. Then things started to change.
I found myself in a situation I did not want to be in and finally had the self respect to get myself out. Soon I moved, surrounding myself with new people and experiences. I asked questions of myself: what do I want from my life? Am I ready to try to be happy? All along this journey you were with me. I started to treat you better. I hurt you less and less. I exercised and we lost weight. I took care in dressing you. Things were looking up.
I began a relationship with a man who worshipped you. He never ceased to compliment you. He embraced us when I admitted to the harm I've done you. He forgave me when I was just starting to forgive myself. I married this man, dressing you up in an ivory gown and sweeping your hair up on top of your head. I finally began to embrace you for what you were, a part of me.
Pregnancy was a great time for us, wasn't it? I was proud to watch you swell and change. I exercised, fed you well, and kept you well hydrated. We grew another body, one of a little girl, and it is for her that I am truly working on my relationship with you. We tried so hard to birth her at home, but when she was stuck and you exhausted I consented to the transfer and all it brought. For months after my ninja's birth I was angry at you. How could you do this to me? I prepared you well! I did everything I was supposed to do? Why did you allow me to wind up on my back in a cold unforgiving room while strangers stretched you and pulled on you to free my baby? As time wore on, and I better understood what had happened I began to move on. I forgive you now. I forgive you for my birth. You did your best, and that is all that matters.
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| Me, three days after having ninja baby |
For once in my life I am truly at peace with the way you look. Do you look like a magazine picture? No, but nobody really does. I like you, you have a lot of stories written on you. You are the thing I have always wanted and always dreaded, a part of myself. Thank you for putting up with all the abuse over the years. I hope you can forgive me. Know that I thank you every day for the miracle you did growing our child, and the continued work of feeding her. I think, I'm actually learning to love you.
Sincerely,
Miss Mama
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