When I see pictures, videos or writings of someone who is no longer alive, I can't help but do the math and think that the person only had three weeks, months, years to live.
I wonder if they knew?
Well, of course not, of course this person didn't know, that is, unless the person had a terminal illness. Even then, the time frame isn't sure.
I wonder if these people would have done anything different if they knew the end would be here in three years. Would they worry less about petty things?
Do I worry about petty things? Yes, I'm sure I do. I find myself worrying about weight issues-- something that often happens after a baby is born. A baby is born, a life is changed, as is a body.
Things aren't the way they used to be. A sag here, a little bit wider there...It all seems so unfair. Yet, at the same time, it is so petty.
Am I horrible for caring, for wanting the old body back? Do I have the time or energy to get it back? Oftentimes I find myself feeling like The Old Me is gone, that she was left on the birthing table.
In her place is someone with sags and dimples and extra skin. She wonders where the body confidence she had went. She wonders why she has to hate the new shell; why she can't accept what nine months of baby making has done to her.
Does anyone accept it? If you accept it, do you eventually just let yourself go? Can you accept and love without letting go?