A couple of weeks ago, SOAM had our #redefiningsupermom gathering here in San Diego. My friend Heidi came and took some awesome photos of us, showing our bellies, wearing our capes, being just generally super. (By, the way, PLEASE take a look at Heidi’s incredible Homeless Humans of San Diego Facebook page, she does a lot of good work helping people down here. If you feel so inclined, as a thank you for having her help by shooting SOAM’s event for FREE, buy her book. Half the sales go to supporting the people she works with. And if you are local, maybe book her for your own family photos.)
I love events like this, where we all get together and just allow ourselves to be imperfect. We find empowerment in our vulnerability together, in our community together. We all showed off our bellies, none of which are perfect (according to society’s too-narrow standards), but we were together. And here’s the thing: these bellies have stories to tell. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and writing (which I’ll share soon) about how the body tells us its story by inscribing it onto our skin. How beautiful is that? Your body is poetry, it is a piece of art. No matter what it looks like, and whether it fits society’s standards of beauty or not, it is your poem, your story. It’s perfect just as it is.
Remember today that a real supermom is one who has had a homebirth or a planned cesarean, she’s one who homeschools or doesn’t, she’s one who is thin or curvy or none of those things, she’s one who breastfed or didn’t, she’s one who gave birth or adopted. Today we are #redefiningsupermom and recognizing that the only requirement to be a supermom is to love your kids.
Happy Mother’s Day, mamas!
Original post here.
A few years ago, in 2009, I submitted a picture and piece about the liberation of my breasts. As a mom of three at the time I was trying hard to liberate myself from body hatred, while learning to love my changed body.
Now, two more kids later, for a total of five kids breastfed for 3+ years each, my breasts are still the love vessels they always have been. Whether my nipples are laying down looking tired or up and ready for the cold (or something else), they’ve supplied sustenance for life and they continue to hold the potential for pleasure. Although they look way different than before kids, they’re still part of me and my almost forty one year old sensual body.
Reclaiming my body after directly creating, birthing and nurturing five lives with it for fifteen years plus is an interesting process and I’m not always sure what to expect along the way. During one birth I injured my pelvic muscles, resulting in the need for physical therapy to repair and strengthen my sacred pelvic bowl. My belly is now squishy and soft, as I continue to gradually support and strengthen the muscle underneath. My skin is stretched and wrinkles when I pull in my tummy. My breast’s perky days are done, instead traded in for breasts which are soft and stretched, shifting into little puddles on my chest when I lay down. All of this fluctuates depending on the position of my body, levels of activity, rest, nutritional intake and hydration.
Overall, my body has changed and grown, changed some more and now that I’m complete with my child bearing I’m very grateful for all it has provided and continues to provide for me and my family. My body is my tree of life and more than anything, love is what it needs, and so love is what I am learning to give it – soft squishy breasts, stretch marked belly and all.
After being severely underweight while breastfeeding my 2nd child well past 2 years old, my husband got a vasectomy. Approaching 31 and this is my mom body. Lol