My body

How's that for a potentially provocative title? ;)

A post on kickrunners.com piqued my interest. It was about an editor from some parenting magazine (one I've never heard of, possibly a British publication) who has sparked controversy by declaring that she finds breastfeeding creepy. One of her main reasons, apparently, was purely aesthetic; she wanted her breasts to recover from pregnancy sooner and be their perky selves again. Or something to that effect.

One of the posts on kickrunners was poignantly written. It described all the things a woman's body can do. That's what got me thinking.

I often feel betrayed by my body. One of the things I wish for most is a child, and it's been that way for decades. In my teens and twenties, I thought I'd be completely done with childbearing by the age of 30. I'd have two or three perfect little ones (at least one boy and one girl), plus a dog, a white picket fence, yadda yadda yadda.

Now 43, I haven't even started. All I have is one failed pregnancy, a miscarriage at 10 1/2 weeks. And instead, my body twists and contorts and cramps and bleeds and spasms month after month. The cramps. Oh, the cramps! Two months ago I called my doctor in tears, begging for a hysterectomy, that's how bad the cramps are. This morning I collapsed on the sofa for nearly two hours, waiting for my beloved Advil to kick in.

So yes, I feel betrayed by my body. It does this to me month after month, but it won't do the one thing I really want it to. It hardly seems fair.

The post on kickrunners, though, made me reconsider. Instead of beating up my body, I should praise it. Love it. Nourish it.

Celebrate it for all it CAN do.

It can run. Jump. Laugh, smile, and cry. It can carry me for hours. It can bike, swim, do aerobics, build muscle, and stretch. It can kiss and hug loved ones. It can see, hear, smell, taste, and touch. It can dance. Poorly. :) It can sing. Even more poorly! It can walk hand in hand. It can lift. It can tell jokes, listen, push, pull, duck, hit, kick, tickle, be tickled, and dodge. It can snuggle. It can pet. Cheer. Travel to far-away places both physical and mental. It can serve, bump, set, spike, and block. It can feed itself, dress itself, and tie its shoes. It can pray or meditate. It can nurture. Comfort. It can read. It can think. It can learn.

Most importantly, it can love.