To my sweet Soren…
This is one of my favorite pictures of us. Yes, us. You were 7 months in my belly at this time. It was a warm day in Oakland and we were perusing down Piedmont Ave. with dear friends exploring storefronts, passing by Fenton’s, choosing to stop down the way for a bubble tea.
I remember feeling extra beautiful on this day. Oddly, even as my belly grew larger day by day and the rest of my body followed suit, I often felt beautiful while I was pregnant with you. I enjoyed watching my body change knowing I had this amazing little being growing inside of me.
This wasn’t the norm. Before, I would often pick myself apart for the silvery grays laying down tracks on my side part, or the wrinkly crevices that were deepening in my forehead, or the extra squoosh at my waist… and butt… and chicken wing… and chin… and thighs.
And while I had my days that I felt extra bloated, swollen, and run down, you… simply being you inside of me… made me feel beautiful.
Remember last week when we were heading down to Grandma’s house? It was one of the first warm Spring days. The sun was begging for a dress to be dusted off from my closet. I chose this same blue dress, patterned with rust red flowers and frills. It hung differently this time. A little more space in the middle without you.
I put it on, face still freshly washed and hair sopping wet, as I quickly walked through the kitchen where you caught a fast glance.
“SO cute mommy!” I abruptly stopped my quick pace on the return from the laundry room. I took three steps back until I could see you through the doorway across the family room sitting alert on the couch.
“What sweets?”
“So ca-yoot that is!”
“The dress?” I asked confused as I pointed at my frock seeking more clarity. My soggy, limp locks were hoping you’d say yes.
“Yeah! You look so beautiful!”
My first instinct was to correct you and point out that I had no makeup on and my hair wasn’t even done. But before I could, you interrupted with, “I love it! So beautiful mommy.”
As my fully engaged insecurities melted away, I rushed toward you eager to cover you in kisses. To tell you how your words made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. And to go on and explain how Mama doesn’t feel so beautiful most of the time with my minimal showers, half brushed teeth, and greasy hair.
But instead, I savored that moment. I let it soak deep into my tired bones, and retold the story several times that day.
Almost 3 years later, and you still know how to make Mommy feel beautiful simply being you. I cherish you son and marvel at who you are. Not because you make Mommy feel beautiful, but because your heart is beautiful.
