Dear Body,

I was cursing you a little bit this morning.

As I began a slow jog in my neighborhood, I felt an old familiar pain creep into my hip. Frustrated that that pain had the audacity to come back after taking a week off and stretching like mad, I just kept going.

I want so badly to be able to do this again, so I ignored the signs you giving me to tell me to slow down. My head keeps reminding me that I was easily running 7km this time last year. I was so proud of that accomplishment.

…but I am not the same person I was last summer.

This body that carried me through 7km runs changed to carry me through 10 months of pregnancy. You safely carried my baby through months of worry and anxiety. You endured a traumatic delivery to give me what I believed might be impossible after losing our last. A different kind of accomplishment.

You grew life, and continue to provide everything that my rainbow baby needs to grow and thrive.

So, yes. As I criticized the new curves and soft pouches you carry, I cursed you a little bit this morning. I cursed the recurrence of a pain once forgotten. I cursed your inability to do the thing I wanted to do.

…but then I remembered: you DID do the thing I wanted to do.

And I am currently holding him in my arms. He’s perfect.

So, body, I’m sorry for being hard on you today. I’m sorry for criticizing what I believed were your shortfalls. I’m sorry for cursing you for not being strong enough.

For a minute, I forgot just how incredibly strong you are, sore hips and all.

So, we beat this pain once before, and we’ll do it again. It might mean that it takes me a little longer, but that’s okay.

You already did something pretty miraculous, and he’s smiling at me right now.

Thanks for that. The rest can wait. I know we’ll get there eventually.

You already did what’s most important.

Love,
Me.