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The Lines Of A Beautiful Love StoryStretch Marks
by Cassandra George-Sturges
 Before giving birth to my first child, I had a perfect body, with firm, upstanding breast, and a smooth flat stomach with flawless skin. Afterward, however, I was horrified when I looked in the mirror. I couldn't believe that my breast were now sagging and twice their previous size. And my stomach and thighs were covered with stretch marks. I cried uncontrollably; the nurse assured me that I was experiencing postpartum depression.
The Oxford Medical Dictionary describes postpartum depression as, "An emotional psychiatric condition that occurs after childbirth. It is characterized by symtoms that range from mild to intense, suicidal depressive psychosis. The cause is not proven; neurochemical and psychological influences have been implicated."
For the most part, being a new mother is a joyous occasion, but sadly I knew that my life would never be the same. but after months of adoring my beautiful baby, I came to realize that the etchings on my stomach told a wonderful story of how my body changed to adapt to the growing life inside of me.
One of the most ironic aspects of having a baby is that although my body had performed the ultimate characteristic of womanhood-- to grow a fetus and give birth--I never felt more unattractive and unfeminine. The physical changes during and after pregnancy forced me to take a completely new look at my body. Indeed, nature had rudely informed me that my breast were not only for sexual pleasure; when they filled with milk, they ached. Not to mention the vaginal stitches after childbirth (episiotomy). All this pain taught me that the true essence of my femininity was directly connected with nature and the continuation of life.
For me, my body was no longer just an object of love, affection, and pleasure, but a tunnel of life by which another human form could cohabit and be brought into the physical world. And although, my husband could walk away from our love, our life--I could not. My body not only provided the avenue, but the foundation that would provide all of the necessities to sustain the life of our child.
I was so proud of my body's ability to give birth, but after the pregnancy, I wanted no visible signs of this miracle of life. In our American culture, women boast about not looking like they have ever given birth. On the other hand, we proudly display hickeys (passion marks) to symbolize our passion for our mate. Fraternities and sororities brand their members as a symbol of unity. Soldiers are proud of their battle wounds. But the tattoo or battle wounds of motherhood are largely undesirable.
In our main culture, the female body is used in advertisement to sell everything imaginable. The more expensive and luxurious the item, the more appealing the model. This may be sound business sense, but the subliminal message to the public perpetuates the objectification of women. And motherhood and femininity/physical attractiveness are oddly separate entities. The media's idea of the perfect female body is one that is almost anorexic, has flawless skin, a flat stomach, and firm breast. This limited and unrealistic portrait of femininity and beauty separates the function of the female body from its social and emotional identity.
Biologically speaking, the females body was designed to nurture and carry babies. For many women, this means weight gain, possibly stretch marks, sagging breast, and yes!--a big stomach. This is our physical reality. And these physical characterisics remain for an unspecified amount of time after the birth of our babies. This portrait of motherhood, however, is physically unacceptable to the media. There are countless number of ads that encourage women to improve their breast, buttocks, stomach, stretch marks, thighs-making them more attractive. And although Oprah Winfrey and Hilary Clinton are extremely successful and inteligent women, their physical appearance, hairstyles, makeup, and weight are discussed more often in the media than their ideas and thoughts on political and social issues.
What does all of this have to do with stretch marks? Well, before the birth of my first child, unknowingly my perception of my self-worth was based on my physical appearance. Throutout my life, most of the appraisal I received from people was about my physical appearance. In my prime, I had a flat stomach and stand-at-attention breast and wore revealing summer clothes to show them off. I was no cover girl, but I held my own. Upon embracing my role as a mother, however, I began to understand that the stretch marks on my belly were symbolic of my femininity, strength, and beauty. Indeed, God had kissed me on the cheek and blessess me--with the gift of life!
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