Mother Love

It’s been almost two months now, but my sweet baby turned one year old on May 10th. ONE YEAR. What a year it has been…so full of wonder and joy and discovery. We were looking back over photos from her birth and first weeks a few nights ago and could hardly believe that there was that day when she was tiny enough to lay on our chests or fit in the sink for a bath. Now she is toddling all over the house and jabbing all day in her own little language and walking up to us with a book in her hands so we will sit and read with her (which is the sweetest thing ever to me). We love watching her grow up and develop her personality…she’s turning out sweet and spicy, just saying, hehe.

A local photographer was offering short mini-sessions at a pop-up shop event in East Nashville back in April, and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and get some one-year shots of me and my little sweetie. The event took place in a gorgeous backyard with a lot of pretty foliage and an old fence and even a willow tree, and made for the prettiest backdrop for these photos. These are some of my favorites!

Photos by:: The Joy Creative

Dear women, I have something to talk to you about.

It’s about your body, about our bodies. Because how many of us spend way too much of our time worrying about and thinking about and critiquing our bodies? I do. And I daresay you do too. And I’m here to remind you, and to remind me, of this:: that our bodies are merely a kind of costume. They aren’t who we are. Our body is made to house us for our time on this earth, and yes, it’s a part of you…but it’s not you. Your body does not define you. Your body does not make you worthy/beautiful/loved. Your body is actually the smallest, most insignificant part of your existence…and yet somehow it’s so easy to make it the most important piece of us. You are a spirit with a soul that lives in a body. Three parts, three things that makes up your existence. And that body that we pay so much attention too and stress about so much and critique and hate and fight against is the absolute least important part of us.

Let me tell you something:: I have cellulite on my legs and stretch marks on my hips and some chin fat that makes me feel self-conscious. I used to hate these things (and i’m still tempted too sometimes). I used to feel like they were flaws and marks of imperfection. But do you know what they are really? Just cellulite. Just stretch marks. Just fat. And that’s it. They are nothing more. They aren’t flaws or imperfections…they just are what they are.

A few months ago, I was in the dressing room at Target trying on a few things. Ayla was with me, and she sat there in the shopping cart playing with the hangers and random cart items and just watching me. It was in a moment when I put on a bathing suit and turned around to see how it looked in the mirror and all those familiar thoughts of perfectionism came rushing at me…and I wanted to start picking myself apart, to place judgement on my body, to sigh and groan about the flaws that seemed so obvious to my eyes. I mean, you know how those dressing rooms can be…with the glaring lights and surrounded by mirrors and nothing hidden…it can feel like a harsh place. There’s been so many times in my life that I’ve walked out of a dressing room with my heart feeling shattered and angry and so…imperfect.

But that day, something changed inside of me…because there was my little girl sitting there watching me with her big brown eyes, just taking it all in. And I knew that I couldn’t give those lies a place in my heart any longer. I couldn’t stand there and twist and turn to see all the angles to see where I was lacking and imperfect and sigh and groan because of those marks I didn’t like or the areas that needed more definition. I couldn’t let her watch me judge myself. I couldn’t open the door of her sweet little heart to thinking that discontentment and frustration with your body was just normal, or that perfection is the standard.

We let the wrong voices tell us what beautiful is, my dears. We are constantly constantly constantly bombarded with images and ideas of what beauty is, and do you know what’s really nuts? The majority of what we are told is beauty is fake. Fake! Edited. Photoshopped. Those photos you see in a magazine or on a billboard or in the mall are shot with a camera, put on a screen, and fixed. They add length to legs and trim the tummy and erase the marks and make things bigger or smaller or disappear. It’s not even real. But yet, we see those edited women and then look at our own unedited selves and feel like we don’t measure up. It’s not how it’s supposed to be, dear heart. It’s not a standard that you are meant to have.

So I tell you that all of you is beautiful. Stretch marks? Beautiful. Cellulite? Beautiful. The things they called muffin tops and love handles and saddlebags? Beautiful. Your size 2/6/8/12/25/small/medium/large/extra large? Beautiful! You are beautiful because of you, not because of your body. It’s just a costume. It’s just a house for who you really are. It’s ok to take care of that house…you should. Keep it healthy and strong and feeling good and alive. But just remember that it’s just a body:: just remember that it’s not who you really are.

What about you: is it easy for you to feel like your body is the most important thing about you, or to feel like you are defined by how you look?

I’d love to hear your thoughts!