On the drive home from the gym every day I have endorphins pumping. I am sweaty and strong and I feel about as good as I am going to feel all day. Something happens when Lucy and I walk into the house. I cross the threshold of our side door and enter the kitchen and the sweat starts to dry and all of a sudden I need to make lunch and what have I prepped for dinner and I have phone calls to make and oh shit I forgot to go the post office and do we have softball practice tonight and….
I try to hold onto the feeling. I do. Today Lucy was cool, we had macaroni and cheese which every parent knows is a crowd pleaser. “Mom, you go take a shower and I will just color, ok?”
Don’t mind if I do. I walked into the bedroom to peel myself out of my sweaty gym clothes and I guess I didn’t hear her follow me. “Mom!” She was yelling, like something was very alarming. “What ARE those lines?”
Instinctively I pulled my shirt back down. My still salty face started to flush and I was trying to formulate an answer, the right answer. I took a deep breath and pulled my shirt back up and said “Lu remember how I told you that you used to be inside my belly? Well, in order to fit in there my skin had to stretch way out.”
She touched my stretch marks and was quiet. “That’s amazing. Now your belly is so tiny.”
Well, compared to when I was 40 weeks pregnant, I suppose it is. So tiny.
“That’s cool, Mom. I am gonna have lines on my belly when my baby comes out, too.”
And she walked away.
I wish I could see myself like my girls see me. Just once.