The dresses arrived in the mail, and I decided I might as well try them on. My 6 year old daughter decided to come and watch. I don’t normally change in front of my daughters; maybe I should more often.
“Why does your belly look like that, Mom? Why does it have wrinkles and brown marks? Mine does not look like that.”
“It looks like this because I had babies. I once had a smooth belly like yours.”
I put on the dress. I am going to be in my sister’s wedding next summer and we have been hunting down the right dress for her bridesmaids, most of them being the mother of at least two children. It seems that the average bridesmaid dress was not designed to flatter the postpartum body. But we found a dress at a chain store which flattered me at 6 months postpartum after my fourth monster baby.
So, I am in this dress, and my six year old wants to show her sisters.
“Here comes the queen! Wave to the queen as she walks by!”
I snap a few pictures to send to my sister, to see if she likes the dress. And we go back to change. My three year old tags along.
“See Mom’s belly!” my six year old tells her.
“Mom, do you ever wish that you did not have babies so that you could have a smooth belly?”
“No dear. I would much rather have four babies than a smooth belly. My four babies are much more important than what my belly looks like.”
“Children are more important?”
These four people are worth any amount of shrunken, funny looking postpartum stretch marks and extra squishy belly.
If I ever forget that, may my right hand whither.