A woman stopped me in the park, and congratulated me on how good I look for 11 weeks postpartum.

Damn right I do, thank you.

Today, when I look into the mirror, or rather, when I look at older pictures, I mourn the body that I had.

But then again, that body did not have three pregnancies in less than 1 year. That body did not birth Liv. That body is not 40.

And I might never have that body again. And it’s okay. I have so much to liv(e) for. I do look fucking amazing after what  I have been through.

Lest I forget, I got Earth Angels to remind me to be kind to this body that carried life.