I did a thing, you guys. And it will make all your dreams come true!
You know how every morning, you sit at your kitchen table with your cereal and you’re just like “wow. i wish i were getting emails about what’s going on with SOAM these days”?
*infomercial voice* WELL NOW YOU CAN!
You’ll get emails about twice a month keeping you up to date with SOAM happenings. And since this is our anniversary year, there are a ton of happenings! Photo projects, contests, a collab video, vlogs, book clubs- a ton of stuff you don’t want to miss!
See the menu bar at the top of this (and every) page? Click on “Mailing List” to go to the form to fill out. (I am not sure yet if this works on mobile – if you don’t have access to a computer, don’t worry, I’ll be working on a reliable mobile way to join soon!)
OR!
If you head over to our Facebook page there is a tab at the top where you can add yourself to our mailing list. (This definitely only works on desktop as of right now, not mobile- sorry!)
This is new to me so lmk if there are any issues and I’ll sort it as quick as I can.
I found out I was pregnant just before Christmas, after a few weeks of morning sickness and painful cramps. But I unfortunately made the decision to have a termination due to many different factors in my life and haven’t told anybody about it apart from my boyfriend. We’ve been together now for over two and a half years and he’s been so supportive with everything. I can talk to Him about anything but I feel embarrassed, guilty and very selfish about what I’ve done and have started to fall into a sort of depression. My older sister found out she was expecting a few weeks before I did and seeing her go through this experience when I could have been as well is killing me. I know it’s my own fault but it was the right decision for us both at the time. I just want my angel to know that I am so sorry for everything that has happened I know that doesn’t make up for what I have done, but I will love you forever.
You guys. You guys. Can you believe SOAM is turning TEN this year? I am working hard to make some really exciting things happen this year in celebration. I’ll share more news very soon, but for right now here’s a summary of how you can participate and stay updated.
1. You can submit your story here at SOAM. You’ll find everything you need to know about that at this page (also in the menu bar above).
2. You can join in our #soamweeklyphoto. We’ve just finished January and it was a ton of fun. More information at the link (also also in the menu bar above).
3. You can join my BRAND SPANKING NEW mailing list! I plan to send out emails about twice a month hightailing posts and events at SOAM as well as keeping you up to date with things that are happening and future plans. There’s a form in the sidebar over there. Go sign up!
5. You will be able to participate in a special anniversary video celebrating our first decade on the web! I’ll have more details on that very soon, but in the mean time, spread the word and start thinking about it.
Last, but not least…
6. Contests and prizes! I am planning tons of contests and prizes for this year. Stay tuned to find out how to participate! If you are a WAHM and/or would like to donate prizes, please email me at theshapeofamother@gmail.com
Well for starters I have a lot on my plate. I’m a single mom, I work, and go to school. I just turned 20 last December, and this was my first pregnancy. I love my son to death I wouldn’t trade him for anything, I just regret having him at a young age. I feel like a bad mom sometimes because I get so down about my postpartum body, and it worries me so much I lose focus on what’s important. I’m 3 months pp and I thought I would be at least almost back to normal but I’m not. My stomach is very wrinkly and covered with stretchmarks as well as my sides, thighs, hips, even my calves. I don’t even want to date in the future because of it…its just that awful. The only thing that cheers me up about it is my son because he was well worth it. I just wish it wasn’t so bad ?
The first picture is me before pregnancy, the last two are me 3 months pp….
What a beautiful week this was! I don’t think I can say it any better than the women who participated did so without further ado…
From @claritybeam
It’s hard to pick a favorite. I love my body. It’s done so many amazing things, like birth two big babies away from any hospitals or doctors, like stop making cancer cells for malignant melanomas and polyps in my colon, like walk me so many places I’ve wanted to go, and run me away from a few places I should never have been. My body has witnessed miracles, made art, created life (those last two are redundant), and given of itself to this Earth and Her people in wise and foolish ways, both. I’ve loved it all.
From @SandyCoronilla
My #favoritebodypart (plural) are my legs. They’re strong. They’ve supported every great and silly thing I’ve done in life. From birthing my babies, carrying the weight of my whole world really, to allowing me freedom through running and walking. I love them. They never, ever let me down. And they even look good in a dress
From @feminartistry
I’ve been dreading this week’s theme, to be honest. I don’t really have a favorite body part anymore but that’s not something that bothers me as much as the feeling that I *should* have one. I’ve had other people compliment parts of my body (both appropriately and otherwise) but there’s not really a body part I dress for or try to accentuate. However…I’ve always loved my eyes and my smile — crooked tooth and all — no matter how much my weight has fluctuated. People tell me I can’t hide what I’m feeling because my face always expresses it in some way. Professionally I know that’s something to work on, but, it works for me tremendously as an artist, an empath and a mom.
From @eroomylime
My favorite part of my body is my hands. I’ve always loved the way they look and feel. It’s the part of my body I see the most. I’ve had arthritis for two years now and know my hands will not always be able to do for me and will not always be so pretty, and that makes me grateful for my body as a whole and all that it’s does and has done for me. My hands also show all the bumps and scrapes that come along with caring for three young children, such a hands on job.
From @sumrtime328
Ok so this one has been hard for me! Not because I don’t like my body parts, but because I couldn’t decide! My hair? My hands? My tattoos? My freckles? Ultimately, I decided on my eyes, laugh lines and all. I love my hazel eye color, I love being able to see the world around me, and I love that, as I age, there’s evidence of a life well lived.
3 giant baby bears + short torso = this crepey saggy skin! It just sort of hangs there after losing weight. But you know, some pretty wonderful people began life there so I can appreciate it for the sake of nostalgia. And for those of us who have our abs cut through a few times, i think we can forgive ourselves for not being what we used to be.
~Age: 33
~Number of pregnancies and births: 4 pregnancies. Miscarriage @16 wks, 3 healthy wild boys
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 9yrs, 4yrs, 3yrs
~3 C-sections. I still can’t feel my abs.
I’m not really sure how to tell my story, I had it all typed out and deleted it because it ended up being a jumbled mess. It’s much easier to just list the major points so bear with me! (:
-18 when I got pregnant..5’2 and itty bitty with curves in all the right places
– Didn’t gain much weight at all through my pregnancy (overall about 15 lbs in the first and second trimesters combined)
– Developed severe preeclampsia and full blown HELLP syndrome at 31 weeks
– Emergency C-section 2 hours into 31 weeks
– Delivered a tiny little 2 lb 8 oz baby who thankfully has no long lasting health problems and is thriving at 8 months old ?
– spent 7 weeks in the Nicu at my daughters side
– told that I can’t have anymore children because my body just isn’t strong enough to handle it
– After she was born I had stretch marks show up EVERYWHERE and the little weight that I did gain went directly to my tummy
– While I’m not necessarily happy with my body physically I think my hatred for it is more of a mental thing..I despise it for not being strong enough to carry my daughter to term and not being strong enough to bare any more children :(
Wow. Such a beautifully powerful week. I love watching people grow and learn to love who they are and the skin they are in.
I was going to write a post for this, but then I remembered that years ago I’d already summed up everything I wanted to say today when I was writing for BlogHer’s Own Your Beauty Initiative. So I’m reposting it below, you can read the original here.
The Story of You, Perfectly Imperfect
As women, we are bombarded by ads and advice for products or remedies designed to cover gray, lift your butt, reduce the appearance of wrinkles, make scars go away, make your boobs look bigger, flatten your tummy, and in every possible way, minimize your imperfections. As mothers we must consider a whole other list of “must-have” products to minimize stretch marks and other pregnancy-caused changes. We worry our lives away about all these imperfections, each mark upon our bodies, never once stopping to consider them as the story of our lives, of who we are, etched into our bodies by Mother Nature herself. We are told through visual images, subtle words and sometimes even outright statements that we must fight against these things because they make us imperfect.
The fact is that we don’t have to fight this implied war. Because there isn’t a problem to begin with.
Every mark on my body tells my story: The scar on my forehead speaks of the time when I was two and needed stitches for running into a wall at full force. The stretch marks on my inner thighs tell of my incredible growth spurt when I was 14. The scar on my wrist tells of when I had surgery to remove a small ganglion cyst. And the stretch marks, well, everywhere else, tell of my first pregnancy, the one which changed every aspect of my being from soul to belly. They tell of the water I retained, and the amazing little girl who grew inside me. They are a part of me. Imperfect. Beautiful.
I recently watched Babies with my kids, a documentary chronicling the lives of four babies across the globe from before birth to toddlerhood. It was incredible. Honest, heartwarming, cutest stuff on the big screen, ever, and, most of all, enlightening. One thing that struck me was how the mamas in Namibia, who were always shirtless, looked like so many mamas I’ve seen on The Shape of a Mother, and not unlike myself in some ways -– but they carried not even a hint of shame. Pendulous breasts, swinging, yanked around by the baby -– and it was normal. Because it is normal! Their bodies tell their stories. They haven’t been told to live to the the standards to which we hold ourselves. Because no matter what, our bodies will change as we grow older gracefully. These mamas just sit there in all their normal beautiful imperfect selves. All women –- those who have birthed or mothered children as well as those who haven’t –- should strive to live that free.
I’m a people watcher. I’m drawn to imperfections. I happen to find them unique and lovely. I remember being in middle school and admiring all the cool girls, even their imperfections. The way their hair didn’t cooperate, or maybe their small breasts or rounded belly, their sloppy handwriting or scribbles, a nose that might be considered long or large –- these were my ideas of beauty. Of course I could not apply these beauty rules to myself until very recently, and even then only by some sort of mental force. I’ve had to work at it. Every picture of me with bad posture, or where I am making some bizarre face, or which shows my double chin, I’ve had to make the conscious choice to shrug and tell myself, “Oh well. That’s who I am. And I AM beautiful.” No excuses for it. No ignoring it. My beauty encompasses my entire self. My beauty, inside and out, tells my story.
“No one in the world ever gets what they want, and that is beautiful.” One of my favorite bands ever, They Might Be Giants, taught me one of my favorite quotes ever in their song, Don’t Let’s Start. I’m sure the duo didn’t intend it to be about body image, and yet, the quote fits the topic. I’ve met very few people who are fully happy with how they look –- most everyone feels this frustration of wishing they had something else. It is beautiful –- in part because we are in this together and can support each other in our journey on this road to loving ourselves wholly. More importantly, and more simply, it is beautiful because it is beautiful. You are beautiful. Your story is beautiful. Your imperfections, particularly, are beautiful.
The entire act of living is imperfect (and that is beautiful), so why on Earth do we expect this aspect to be any different? But what’s more is that once one has embraced imperfection, she finds that it, in itself, is beautiful. Each little line that caresses my belly, the joy springing around my eyes, the strands of silver hiding among my ash-brown hair -– this is my road map that will show you my travels. And the path my story has taken has been twisted and difficult at times, but I wouldn’t change it for anything because it brought me to where I am now. And my body will show you that. And that is perfectly beautiful.
This is me. Your SOAM host. This was a big deal for me to share. I wrote a little bit about it on Instagram:
I created SOAM almost ten years ago and I don’t think I’ve ever felt as naked as I do right now in sharing this photo. And I’m pretty sure I’ve actually posted a topless picture before! I took this picture a few years ago with my big camera. I thought that doing an almost-macro shot of my stretch marks would help me to see them in a new light. I thought if I could make them into art, I’d find them more beautiful. But when I loaded the photos onto my computer and looked at them, I was shocked. They were so much scarier up close than I’d expected, so much more violent. So I hid the photos away instead of sharing them. After all these years of work on my body image and I’m still struggling. It’s really hard work to love yourself! And yet, almost five years after I hid away this picture, I’m ready to share it. My stretch marks are some of the most intense I’ve ever seen (and you know I’ve seen a lot over the years!) but that’s okay. My stretch marks aren’t my soul. My stretch marks are part of my story. My biography written into my skin. And this chapter is about how I became a mother to two amazing human beings. And that is kind of beautiful.
I have got a ton of really lovely responses. I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. I mean, I’ve known how wonderful this community is for years now. But it still feels a little extra naked for me to share this because I can’t just be anonymous here. And so I’ve been just uplifted by you guys once again. Here are some of the comments I’ve received:
“Seriously as I scrolled by I didn’t notice the poster and I thought it was an art website I follow. I stopped because it was so beautiful- looks like sculptural trees. Truly beautiful.” – Kristina M. B.
“love this so much. I see in this image the strength and fragility it takes to carry and birth a baby. The human body and mothering spirit is truly an amazing thing!” – Lauren B.
“I see an incredible amount of stretch and give that is needed to become an entity that can bear, birth and mold another spiritual being into existence. NOTHING to be ashamed of. Beautiful.” – Amber D.
“Its beautiful to see how our skin is so strong yet so delicate” – Bernadette L.
And a couple that I found really powerful:
“They *are* violent, and a testament to the incredible strength of a woman’s body to create and house new human life. Pregnancy and birth have degrees of violence to them that we do a disservice to ourselves by denying.” – Leah M.
“Oh, honey. Even if your stretch marks were your soul, they would not be something to be ashamed of. They would still show your beauty.” – Heidi S.-P.
And, honestly, she’s so right. I think I was trying to say that they are not my entire aspect, they are not all of me, in and out. They are but one facet of who I am, and they are absolutely important enough to be my soul, aren’t they? My children are parts of my soul and they’ve written on me in love so that no matter how they grow, they will also still always be within reach of my touch.
