I lost my baby weight. The weight I gained when I was pregnant with you, I've lost it. I feel like I should be proud of myself, and at times I am, but I feel like I've lost something else too.
You would think that having a piece of my heart and soul missing, I'd already be lighter, but I wasn't. It's ironic that now that I actually am lighter, I feel I'm heavier. I have an extra weight, an extra burden. I have guilt. The guilt tells me that I lost another part of you. It says now there is no evidence a Genevieve Pearl once lived there.
I tell myself that's not true, there is proof. I have one stretch mark on my belly that was given to me by you. However, that is also starting to fade and almost disappear. Sometimes I look at it and tell it to come back. I want it there. I want it to be pink like before. But it doesn't work. It just fades back into my skin only to be seen when looked for.
Most people don't want to see stretch marks and get excited over weight loss. They get excited to buy knew clothes and do all those things you do when you've lost weight. Not me. I still wear my maternity clothes and other pants that are too big because even though I'm supposed to feel better about myself for losing weight, I still feel broken, I still feel like I should be wearing these clothes.
Most people hate seeing stretch marks and are excited for weight loss. I can be like most people some of the time. The other times, I withdraw. I fold into myself and crawl under the proverbial rock to hide. That's where I'm okay with having the baby weight and I like seeing the stretch mark. There my feelings aren't as complicated because I set the norms. Sometimes I want to hide in there and never come out. I always do. I always have to come out. I always peek my head out of my shell, hoping it's safe to come out. It never is. So I put on my baby loss armor and get ready to see the sunshine.
I love and miss you always.
Love,
Mommy
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