Stretched to the max

standard May 26, 2011 1 response

I was so excited back when I was pregnant. So excited because even though I was gaining weight every which way (toes anyone?) even at 39 weeks my belly was smooth, shiny, and brilliantly stretch mark free.

It’s ok. You can hate me.

The morning of my 40th week I got one. But it was a doozie. Like all the stretchmarks got lazy and decided to pop out in one place.

I caught myself fingering the deep ravine leading down from my belly to the top of my thigh often that week. I was fascinated by it. I’d had my fair share of stretch marks before being pregnant. A road map covering my hips, testament to heredity and maybe a slight penchant for candy. This one felt different, earned, more like a badge of honor than a badge of shame.

The stretch mark faded after C was born and came back as my belly swelled to allow Little L to grow. I never did get more, though it’s possibly because I was obsessed with rubbing all sorts of oils and lotion on my bump. Now it’s faded and I’m once again left with just the silvery lines crisscrossing my hips. Nothing on my belly to show for the two pregnancies I experienced other than a certain pouchiness that definitely wasn’t there before C.

I’m learning to live with the pouch, just like I’m learning to live with my other pregnancy left overs. Instead of hating how my body has chosen to remember this time of our lives, I’m choosing to think of all these issues as battle scars to show off with pride.

Pregnancy isn’t for the faint of heart. Neither is having a post-partum body.



This is a Bump Month post inspired by one of our wonderful sponsors Apothederm. I’m not sure I’d use the cream on my belly if I had pregnancy stretch marks there, but I’m seriously thinking about getting rid of the ones on my hip once and for all! About time I stopped feeling shameful about them!

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1 response

  • I went for so long during my first pregnancy without stretch marks, but alas near the end I woke up with a starburst of stretch marks all radiated out from my belly button. It was strangely beautiful, but then with my second pregnancy it just looked weird. Now I don’t even look at my belly anymore with this third pregnancy. I fear the marks and the pouch are permanent. At least they are permanent reminders of amazing new lives I helped bring into the world 🙂

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