The other day, as I was in my bedroom fixing my hair, my three year old looked up at me with curious eyes and touched my long deep stretch mark that had poked out from under my shirt. With all the innocence of a sweet child he asked “Mommy, what’s that?” As I looked down at his small hand beside the deep red memory of his and his brother’s time they spent being nurtured in my womb a great big proud smile swept across my face. I bent down to his level and told him lovingly all about how when he and his brother were little tiny babies and they lived inside my belly. I told him that they had to grow big and strong so that they could come out, so my belly stretched WAAAAAAY out while they were inside. That big mark, I said, and these others, as I pointed to the rest, were what you left me to remind me of that time, and they helped me grow a big tummy for you to live in. “Isn’t that neat?” I asked him, he definitely thought it was. I told him those marks are very very special to Mommy, and that I loved him and his brother so much, along with the special marks they had left for me. You know what? Just thinking about it makes me tear up. I can’t believe how vain I used to be, and the way I used to look at women’s “marks” as something so unfortunate and something to be ashamed of and something to cover up. Now that I have these very special gifts myself, I can’t imagine not having them. There are few things in my life that have compared to the amazing blessing of carrying my two children in my womb and birthing them into this world. These marks scream out that I am a Mother, that I have two precious children to love the rest of my life, that my husband and I created life, and I can’t imagine feeling anything but love and pride now as I run my hand over a place that created, nurtured, and housed two miracles. Boy am I blessed. Thank you so much “Shape of a Mother” for truly allowing me to cherish something that society would have tried to make me feel “ugly” for, there is nothing more beautiful on my body than my marks of Motherhood.