Jesus, The Duchess of Cambridge, and Stretch Marks

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The gorgeous Duchess of Cambridge gave birth yesterday. Just seven hours after the whole ordeal she PUT ON HEELS and left the hospital, glowing with her tiny Prince wrapped in a little white blanket. I saw her picture — knowing full well that she likely had an entourage of people to help her look stunning — and I suddenly hated everything about my current look.

Granted, who doesn’t feel inferior when comparing themselves to grace that is Kate Middleton? Even before either of us had given birth, I coveted her elegance and style. She’s stunning and classy in every way, my fashion idol of all fashion idols.

But seeing her dazzling postpartum picture was especially timely for me after hearing the sermon shared by Pastor Zenzo of Impact Church in Medford this past Sunday.

Don’t Be Ashamed of Your Scars

He preached about insecurity, starting his sermon saying he had forgotten to ask his wife for permission to share a story, but he was going to share it nonetheless and pray she didn’t send him to the doghouse for the week. We all laughed. When the time came he decided to be prudent and keep the tale to himself until he ran it by her.

The message was good, but I was so glad he went and talked to his wife during the last worship song and came back up (with her permission) ready to tell us what he had held back.

There was a point in their marriage after she’d borne 4 children, where their sex life was struggling. Why? She felt incredibly insecure about her body and her stretch marks. Who can relate? He’d turn on the lights and she’d shut them back off, not wanting to be seen.

Finally one night she broke down and told him why she kept hiding — and he proceeded to kiss every stretch mark and tell her how much he loved her. It was a moving story, but what he said next is what hit me: “How did Jesus prove to His disciples that it was Him? With His scars.”

Proof of a Battle Well-Won

To the postpartum mother who hates her stretch marks: Jesus proudly displayed his scars that brought us life. Surely, the Creator of all things could have come back to earth without any scars. He makes the rules. Who said He needed to keep the marks in his hands, feet, and side?

And yet, He did. It’s how He proved to his disciples that it was really Him.

Dear moms, your stretch marks are beautiful evidence of the pain you endured and the life that you’ve brought into this world. The scars from your C-section, from your episiotomy, from the tears you didn’t expect — they’re proof that you are now a mother. And what glorious scars they are.

My Postpartum Body

Like many women, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with my body my entire life. Surprisingly, I felt best about how I looked immediately after giving birth. Even though I looked at least 6 months pregnant, I liked my new chest size and I was no longer the huge pregnant whale I had been only days before. I felt like I looked pretty good for someone who had just had a baby.

But as the weeks went on, I become more and more insecure. I realized the tiger stripes on my belly weren’t going anywhere. My bra size kept fluctuating. Even though I was losing the baby weight, nothing on me was “toned” anymore. And as the months flew by, no one was commenting on how awesome I looked for just having a baby. Because, well, I hadn’t “just” had a baby anymore. And wasn’t it time that I start working out?

And now, here I am, once again a card-carrying member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Those thighs I hated pre-pregnancy are today covered in stretch marks. I never had a flat tummy, but at 9 months postpartum I have the same bloated stomach I was rocking at 20 weeks pregnant. I’m back to my pre-pregnancy weight, but I can’t find my pre-baby body.

As long as I keep my clothes on, I feel ok. My face hasn’t changed and I like my new haircut. When I bother to put on eye makeup I feel pretty pretty. But if I dare to catch a glance at myself in the bathroom mirror before hopping in the shower, I hate what I see. All the old insecurities are back, compounded by those that come from creating a human being.

Tears and Tears

When Pastor Zenzo shared that story, my eyes welled up immediately. I guarantee you no one is sitting around in heaven talking to friends saying, “Too bad Jesus has scars — He’s just not as handsome as He could have been.”

Absolutely not. Instead, they fall at His feet, so grateful for those marks — a beautiful reminder of what He went through on their behalf.

No, our children aren’t likely to praise us for bearing them (at least until they give birth to kids of their own), but that doesn’t make our tears less meaningful. They tell a story. Just as our lives could not have been bought without Christ’s scars, these little lives could never have made it into the world without ours.

To erase the scars is to try and forget the change. You aren’t the same woman you were before you had a baby. You can’t “bounce back” from becoming a mother — it’s a forever change, and a wonderful one at that.

Jesus kept His scars because they’re proof that the world will never be the same. He will never be the same. We will never be the same.

Yes, they’re bittersweet. These scars are reminders of agony, of labor, of pain, of tribulation. I shudder when I think about my birth experience, and it was relatively “easy.” But they’re also reminders of Evelyn. Reminders that I’m a mother. Reminders that I was given this beautiful gift.

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