Stretched By Love

I cleaned out our bathroom closet last week and found a small bottle of an expensive name brand cream that claims to erase stretch marks or wrinkles. 

Perfect! I will use this tonight! I said to myself as I set the cream aside. 

The night came. I took my shower and eventually found myself in front of the mirror to decide where I should start with the magic cream. 

I looked at the prominent stripes that parade across my mommy tummy which has yet to shed the extra baby chub from my baby girl. I stared at the marks and decided that my stomach isn't the place I want my stretch marks to disappear from. Two precious babies stretched that belly beyond what I ever imagined it could be stretched and even though my first did not leave much of a mark there, my second did and I love the memory of being pregnant when I look at those wildly imperfect, but perfect stretch marks. 

I decided that maybe the best place would be on my back and sides where my little man left larger, longer stretch marks. I looked closer and realized those have began to fade ever so softly and I quickly decided that I didn't need to speed up that process. I remember seeing those stretch marks for the first time. I wasn't incredibly happy about it at the time, but now that I looked at them when that child is almost three years old those marks made me smile. I decided I didn't want to apply any cream on those marks to cause them to fade away even quicker so I moved on. 

Oh my legs! Those stretch marks will be seen by people. In public. That's the perfect spot. 

I took the cap off ready to slather that vanishing miracle working liquid all over the stretch marks that grace the front of my thighs. Then I looked down at those markings and I slowly put the cap back on. 

Those stretch marks which the world tells us are imperfections, those stretch marks which the world tells us needs to be erased, those stretch marks which the world tells us makes us less of a beautiful woman, those stretch marks are markings of love. 

Will people ever stare at those stretch marks?

I hope so. 

I hope so because I want them to know I believe they are beautiful. They are not a mark of imperfection, but instead are a mark of perfection of my Savior who through Him gave me one of the greatest gifts I will ever receive, being a mom. 

It's funny how when you are pregnant you think that those stretch marks are going to ruin your body, how you want to cry when your husband points out your very first one when you think you may have escaped them. 

Those marks did not ruin you, they actually helped make you. Those stretch marks made you the beautiful mother you are today. You were stretched by love. 

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