Loving the Body that Holds My Daughter
By Guest Blogger, Brittany Gummere
This body may not wear the size jeans that I would like it to, and it jiggles quite a bit and really needs to chill it on the Miel oatmilk lattes and eat some kale… But there’s no denying that she is strong.
This body is the one who created two children, bore a lifetime of trauma, has slept many a night in hospital chairs, and has a lifetime to go of holding a not-so-little girl. Thankful for her strength, her impeccable dance moves, her penchant for lattes, the literal furnace she is, and the way she holds my soul - like a summer thunderstorm in a coffee mug.
I watched my daughter fall asleep tonight.
I crawled into her bed with her and watched her put her hands behind her head and her eyes drifted shut - her cheeks and lips twitched into a sleepy smile. I thought about her day, and I planned out our coffee date in the morning. I reflected on all of the bedtime cuddles I’ve gotten out of her, and how I hope they never stop.
“I reflected on all the bedtime cuddles I’ve gotten out of her, and how I hope they never stop.”
I just held her and tried not to think of how her body was so long next to mine. I breathed her in, and pushed her hair back from her face, and tried to not let my heart burst from how much I love her.
I only barely succeeded.
