Stretch Marks of the Soul

I'm somebody's mama,  y'all, which gives me the right to talk about what babies tend to do to the physical body of a woman.  Like it or not, I have stretch marks.  It's a great thing that my skin was blessed with extra melanin (hey...the juice is sweet), because otherwise they wouldn't blend as well.

That said, the truth of the matter is that I had stretch marks long before I got pregnant and had a child.  I checked my school records, and between the ages of 9 and 10 (my fourth grade school year), I grew SEVEN INCHES.  Yes, you read it correctly...over half a foot within a nine month period. 

I have a huge understanding of what growing pains entail.  The marks on the backs of my knees and my inner thighs testify to that.  There were times when I couldn't even stand up straight, because I felt my muscular and skeletal systems shifting to support my rate of growth.  Kids were cruel about it, too.  Any time I wore green to school, I was called the Jolly Green Giant, and although ballet classes kept me from being clumsy, whenever we played tag, I was always "IT" because the pain in my legs wouldn't let me run fast enough.

Fast forward 18 years to my first pregnancy.  My doctor decided to induce my labor two weeks early because the baby just didn't have anymore room to grow.  As tall as I am (a little over 6'), little man had stretched me beyond my ability to carry him, and the time came for him to enter this world.

I won't turn your stomach with details of labor...it hurt, but whatever. 

The reason I'm talking about this is because just as the stretch marks on my skin have left a pattern, so have the stretch marks of my soul.  Between the ages of 9 to 10, I was forced to gain an understanding of the fact that everyone isn't as nice as I am.  There are kids who are cruel, and a world that lies in wait to pounce and devour you emotionally if you allow it.  Yet in spite of that fact, if you outlast the insults and grow through the cruelty choosing to forgive, it will stretch your soul to be more compassionate and understanding.  My knees and thighs carry the weight of who I am, and within, the stretch marks I got during that particular period set the foundation of the compassionate person I am today.

Fast forward 18 years.  Can't see my doggone feet, waddling and swollen, can't sleep at night for lack of finding the right position...man, pregnancy is no joke!  But guess what?  When you look at your child for the first time, all the discomfort, aches, pains, hunger and labor are forgotten.  Though honored with stretch marks, the bottom line is you brought forth LIFE.

Thinking about how all my defenses and personal prohibitions went out of the window upon seeing my child, the same holds true within me today.  I couldn't control how much I grew at a young age, just like I couldn't control the rate of growth that another life was going to engage in.

But through it all, I've been stretched...and I no longer look at the marks as ugly reminders.  I look at them as beautiful truths, showing how I've earned the wisdom I now have over the years.

But still...I'm glad my skin is darker. 

One Love!

~ Harriet

My-Life, what kinds of stretch marks have you encountered over the years?  What situations have you found yourself in that stretched you to the point of pain and beyond the point of recognition?