Stretch Marks

After giving birth to my first child, I was devastated at how my body had changed. I was horrified when I looked in the mirror at my once perfect body, with firm pointy breasts, small waist, flat stomach and flawless, smooth skin. I couldn't believe that my breasts were etched with rivers of stretch marks and three times their previous size. My once taut stomach and thighs were now covered with stretch marks and giggled as I attempted to put on my panties.

All I could think about was discarding my revealing, sexy, hot-momma clothes, and if I ever had sex again-at least the rapist would not be interested in seeing my marred body. I uncontrollably cried, as the nurse assured me that I was only experiencing postpartum depression. After months of adoring my beautiful baby, I realized that those lines told a wonderful story of how my body changed to adapt to the growing life inside of me. These lines were the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

One of the most ironic aspects of having a baby is that although my body had performed the ultimate epitome of womanhood, to supply the nourishment that allows a fetus to develop into a human being and give birth, I never felt more ugly, fat and unattractive. Many doctors and nurses describe the emotional changes that women go through after childbirth as postpartum depression. The Oxford Medical Dictionary describes postpartum depression as, "An emotional psychiatric conditions that occurs after childbirth. It is characterized by symptoms that range from mild to intense, suicidal depressive psychosis."

I don't have a medical background, but I believe that postpartum depression is partially caused by the mass media that constantly bankrupts a woman's self-esteem and self-worth with advertisements that promote cosmetic surgery and anti-aging products. It is very difficult for the average woman to accept, love and value herself in a society that continuously bombards her with messages of being inadequate and not-beautiful-enough to be a valued member of society. The nurse insisted that I was experiencing a hormonal imbalance, but I knew why I was depressed. I was sad because I knew that my life would never be the same.
Yes, for the most part, being a new mother is a joyous occasion, but many things about my lifestyle would change forever.

The physical changes during and after my pregnancy forced me to look at my body with a totally new perspective; mother nature rudely informed me that my breasts were not only for sexual pleasure, especially when my breasts were filled with milk and began to ache. Let's not even begin to think about the vaginal stitches after childbirth (episiotomy). The essence of my feminine body was directly connected with nature-the continuation of life. My body provided the tunnel of which life flowed into the physical world. I realized that for me, sex was not just an act of love, affection, or pure romantic pleasure; but that my body could bring to fruition the essence of two human beings. And although, my husband could walk away from our love, our life and our baby, I could not. My body not only provided the avenue, but the foundation that would provide all of the necessities to sustain the life of our child.

In spite of the fact that I was proud of my body's ability to give birth, after the pregnancy was over, I didn't want any visible signs on my body that indicated to me or others that a developing life was once inside of my belly. For some reason, in the American culture, women brag about not physically looking as if we ever had a baby. I remember thinking once that the ultimate compliment that I received was from a teenage girl who said to me, "You don't look like a mother." It's funny how we accept hickeys (passion marks) to symbolize physical desire from our mate, and let's be honest, are hickeys really physically attractive? Sororities and fraternities brand their members as a symbol of unity. Solders are proud of their battle wounds. Unfortunately, most women want to erase any signs of ever being pregnant or giving birth.