Mom Power! Mom Shows Off Her Postpartum Belly With The Many Stretch Marks And An Awe-inspiring Message 

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by Nollywoodkids 1482 views

As mothers, our body goes through a lot during pregnancy and sometimes, many of us are not always happy about the outcome. We feel the need to want to erase all the flaws, forgetting the fact, that we just created a miracle. A life grew inside of us. We birthed a baby.

An Instagram user and mom of three, took to the glam to share an inspiring message about accepting her postpartum body with all the flaws that come with it.

“This was photo was taken by my old man. He’s like, whispering a little, as if he knew to tread lightly, “babe..” he looks up from the camera, “you know your stomach is in it right?” Referring to the photograph he hovered above me to take. I laugh. Because he knows me. He knows how much this libra values beautiful things, I am vain. I’ve been vain all of my life, looking first at someone’s nose, judging by its width, then scrutinizing the hair, feeling inferior to longer, looser strands or immediately disarmed by shorter, coily curls. Brainwashed. Searching for remnants of what “they’ve” conditioned me to find beautiful. With myself, pregnancy seems to be an opportunity to “be free” and not so anxious, eating my feelings while biding my time until D-Day. Postpartum for me is like, the bigger I get, the worst it makes me feel, but that was before. That was before I decided to love me, accept me, like me, no matter my size. Even at 140 lb., I couldn’t bare the sight of my wrinkled belly, the love handles that still wouldn’t go the fuck away, a nose that I felt was too wide, hair not big enough, curls not loose enough. It never mattered if I was thin, thick, or obese, I’d find something to hate about my reflection, as if I were expecting it to look like someone else. The problem I had was learned, engraved, hatred towards anything that did not fit, did not look like the photoshopped, cropped, filtered, hydrogel infused images of what I’ve grown accustomed to love. Loving those bodies so much, made it easy for me to hate my own…. // fuck that now, fuck alladat. * * Yes I am aware that my oatmeal pie is showing. And nah I am not ashamed. * This belly carried 3 lives that I couldn’t imagine living without. If the cross to bare is a wrinkled belly because of it, I can be thankful. Truly, if the only problem I have with this “able” body is stretch marks and a wrinkled mid section, I think I am doing ok. 🙏🏽👌🏽#effyourbeautystandards

This was photo was taken by my old man. He’s like, whispering a little, as if he knew to tread lightly, “babe..” he looks up from the camera, “you know your stomach is in it right?” Referring to the photograph he hovered above me to take. I laugh. Because he knows me. He knows how much this libra values beautiful things, I am vain. I’ve been vain all of my life, looking first at someone’s nose, judging by its width, then scrutinizing the hair, feeling inferior to longer, looser strands or immediately disarmed by shorter, coily curls. Brainwashed. Searching for remnants of what “they’ve” conditioned me to find beautiful. With myself, pregnancy seems to be an opportunity to “be free” and not so anxious, eating my feelings while biding my time until D-Day. Postpartum for me is like, the bigger I get, the worst it makes me feel, but that was before. That was before I decided to love me, accept me, like me, no matter my size. Even at 140 lb., I couldn’t bare the sight of my wrinkled belly, the love handles that still wouldn’t go the fuck away, a nose that I felt was too wide, hair not big enough, curls not loose enough. It never mattered if I was thin, thick, or obese, I’d find something to hate about my reflection, as if I were expecting it to look like someone else. The problem I had was learned, engraved, hatred towards anything that did not fit, did not look like the photoshopped, cropped, filtered, hydrogel infused images of what I’ve grown accustomed to love. Loving those bodies so much, made it easy for me to hate my own…. // fuck that now, fuck alladat. * * Yes I am aware that my oatmeal pie is showing. And nah I am not ashamed. * This belly carried 3 lives that I couldn’t imagine living without. If the cross to bare is a wrinkled belly because of it, I can be thankful. Truly, if the only problem I have with this “able” body is stretch marks and a wrinkled mid section, I think I am doing ok. 🙏🏽👌🏽#effyourbeautystandards

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