HI. IM JULES.
A letter to my postpartum body:
I am sorry for all the years I forgot to celebrate you. I forgot to appreciate all that we accomplished together. I criticized you often, letting the pressure of society's beauty standards define my feelings toward you.
Your squishy belly is covered in proof that you have grown life inside you. The stretch marks across your breasts are a reminder that you have nourished two babies. In your softness, there is strength that has carried us through disease, grief, loss, and birth.
I am sorry I was not kinder to you.
I hope my daughter's hear me speak about you with grace and appreciation, so that one day they will speak to their own bodies with that same gentleness. Every dip, dimple. and curve deserves my love. They were always deserving of my love. And I will do my very best to make up for lost time.
HI. IM JAS.
growing up I was constantly put down for being too much. too emotional, too dramatic, too loud. too everything.
it forced me to dim my light + make myself smaller.
as a mother, I encourage my children to always be "too much," to be unapologetically themselves. to have bad days. to share their feelings, in hopes their home will always be a safe space for them to be whoever, whatever, whenever.
may they be loud + happy.
may they breakdown in the comfort of their mother's arms, rather than hide their tears and go through it alone. may they always feel safe with me.
the world can be an unkind place, they dont need their home to be.