"I held you every second of your life."

My husband and I lived out of state the first couple years of marriage, and just recently moved back home. It was a faith-based move--we were planning on finishing school in Utah, but we both strongly felt like it was time to move back. The day before we got back, we both had jobs lined up for us, and everything felt so right. We had also been trying to get pregnant since October of 2012, and a week after moving home, we found out we were expecting.

We're very strong in our faith, we have a lot of trust in God and his plan for our lives. Seeing that positive pregnancy test just made us realize that we were obviously in his care, he was looking out for us, and he really did know what was going on in our lives. 

Three days later, I was at the hospital, learning that I was having a miscarriage. I felt lonely, mad, sad, and oddly calm. I felt like God had put all the pieces of our life together perfectly, and then just ripped it to shreds. I felt like no one understood what I was feeling, and I just wanted to punch everyone in the face that told me, "At least you know you can get pregnant," or "At least it happened early in the pregnancy," or "I know what you're going through." 

I lost my baby, 5 weeks and 3 days, and I don't need to justify the sorrow and pain I felt, no matter how  young and tiny my baby was.

With people trying to comfort me, or I guess more try to make me not feel sad or upset, I started trying to force myself out of it, too. Then I stopped, and I knew I had to let myself feel my feels. I felt mad at God, and I told God I was mad at him, and it was okay. I felt sad, and I let myself be sad, and it was okay. I was lonely, and I knew it would pass, but I let myself feel lonely. Through most of it, even the moments the doctors were poking and prodding me, I was calm. I don't know why, and I started to feel guilty about feeling calm, like it meant I was okay with everything, but I embraced it, and I let myself feel what I needed to feel. Allowing myself to feel my emotions helped me.

I started wondering about if I get pregnant again, if it will result in another miscarriage. I got really stressed out, but I came across this message that basically said it's okay to feel joy for another pregnancy after a miscarriage; even if you never get to hold that baby in your arms, you will still be holding it inside of you, nourishing it and loving it. You're still a mother.

S. P. Cole wrote, "I held you every second of your life." It's true. Who knows if there was a spirit inside that baby, I like to think there was, I mean it was living and it was growing, and I believe that anything living has a spirit. I held that sweet little spirit through it's short little life, but at least it was held and loved.

When the day comes that I do get pregnant again, I will choose to celebrate, I will choose to feel joy, I will choose to be excited. I wont let any unhealthy fears or worries keep me back, I will be strong, and I will embrace God's plan for our family, whatever it may be.

I've Got Cellulite

It's true. I've got cellulite. And stretch marks. And I think the real problem is that the moment I saw it, the first thing I wanted to do was squats. And lunges. And stairs. I wanted to "fix" it, make it go away.

You know what else I have? Abs. Legs. Biceps. Clear skin. Long hair. Cute toes. A body that gets a lot of criticism from its inhabiter.

Oh. And cellulite and stretch marks.

There's a lot in this society telling me what's perfect, what looks good, what people want--and it's all about my body. There is a huge flaw in the world if all of a sudden, I feel I can't wear a swimsuit without a skirt or shorts attached because I've got "cottage cheese legs."

Do you know why I have cellulite? Because of biology. Because of genetics. Because that's how some people are built. I can exercise, eat right, live healthy all I want, but that cellulite is not going anywhere. And I have to accept that truth. I have to love my body for what it is, for what it has given me, for the miraculous creation that it is, and stop being a hater. I have to defy the message the social media has engrained into my head about what is perfect, and what is beautiful.

I am beautiful. My body is beautiful. I take good care of it. It's a gift. We can use what we've been given for so much good. We can use our feet and legs to travel, to dance, to move! We can use our hands to give a gift to someone we've been thinking about, or to wipe tears off the face of a loved one! We can use our arms to hold a crying child. We can use our ears to hear and to learn, and we can use our mouths to enjoy delicious food, and to tell people they are loved! We have organs that allow us to heal ourselves. We can use our bodies to create life, to bring a soul into this world, through love! Our bodies can be used for good!

Let us use them properly. Let us not be deterred by the social media. Let us remember that our bodies are divine, miraculous creations that should be treated, loved and respected as such. Let us love our bodies, and not criticize our own, or the bodies of others. Let us praise those that are using their body to help others, to help the environment, to spread goodness around them. Let us not worry about what our bodies look like, and worry more about what we're using them for.

Let us love. Cellulite and all.