I am wonderfully made.

That’s what we preach. We preach it to ourselves, our children and our friends. I understand it. I feel it. Wonderfully made. I see my children and recognize that my body has done something amazing, incredible, miraculous even – but yet, here I am, on our bedroom floor, staring at my full closet, crying.

You see, I love my body. I always have. Self-confidence has never been an issue that I’ve struggled with no matter what state my body was in. I’ve always had a little extra pudge pocket in front and worn it proudly. Only one short time in my life have I been without it – and let me be clear on this – although I was physically in the best shape of my life – I’d never been so self-conscious and aware of other people’s bodies around me. In the best shape of my life, I was the most judgemental I’d ever been. I could blame it on surroundings, friends at the time or a million other things, but in reality, it was solely because I sought out my value by the shape of abs instead of my value in Christ. I did away with that toxic mindset pretty quickly.

But yet here I am. Stuck in a place that is different yet the same. 2 babies in. 4 months postpartum, not yet okayed to be as physically active as I’d imagined I’d be by now, although not overweight. In fact, I was back down to my pre-baby weight by 8 weeks postpartum. But do you want to know how much weight actually matters? 0%. We can talk about pre-baby and post-baby weight all we want but it means nothing. Why you might ask? Because my clothes still don’t fit.

Pregnancy changes you. It can physically change your body for some, like myself, who’s hips will likely never go back to size they were when I thought they were huge before having babies.

My undergarments hug the wrong places, my pants – if they even go OVER my thighs, I can barely breathe in them, and my shirts – don’t even get me started on my shirts. My usual go-to summer clothing is sundresses, which also now don’t fit because of a larger bosom and have become way to short due to my wider hips. Plus, how on earth am I supposed to breastfeed without taking the whole thing off every time? What do I do now with a whole wardrobe that I can’t wear and very limited extra funds for replacing it? I wipe my tears and reach for my sidekick, leggings.

This morning I tried on SIX outfits before landing on my maternity underwear, my trusty leggings that got me through pregnancy and an oversized t-shirt. We often make fun of the “mom leggings”, the ones that are thrown on in haste and over-tiredness – but we need to talk about the REAL mom-leggings. The ones that are put on because nothing else fits right. Because you only own one pair of shorts that currently go over your hips and you put them in the washer the night before, forgetting to switch them into the dryer before you went to bed. The ones that make us feel like we can hide our imperfections but aren’t good enough to leave the house in – so you just don’t. What about those leggings?

I know. I know. First world problems. They really are.

But that’s where I am today – and most days to be honest. That’s what I promised on this blog, honesty.

Even when it feels like this.