“Real isn’t how you are made,”
said the Skin Horse.
“It’s something that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse.
“You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
{The Velveteen Rabbit}
I tend to like to ignore the physical side effects of motherhood. The toll it’s taken on my body and sometimes my mind – or is it my hormones – I can never tell which is which.
I pretend my stretch marks aren’t there and I joke that my varicose veins on my legs are my latest tattoo. My hair is falling out and broken off in places, and my jeans just don’t fit like they used to.
What if these physical alterations weren’t something to constantly complain about in the mirror, hacking away at my confidence, but they were proof that I am Real.
Proof that I REALLY love.
Loving with my whole self, with my very being. Fully engaging all my physical, spiritual, emotional and mental strength.
Proof that I actually have the ability to love with my mind, body and soul.
The Rabbit sighed.
He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him.
He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad.
He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.
{The Velveteen Rabbit}
We wish the uncomfortable things wouldn’t have to happen to us, in motherhood. We only want to focus on the most beautiful pieces of our ornate tapestry but the ordinary pieces are the ones that hold it all together. And the tattered edges and patches that are coming undone are the very proof that we love wholeheartedly, without holding back.
May we not despise becoming unraveled. May we embrace it. Because bit by bit, we become. And no one has to fully understand it, but you.
All the little pieces of your beautiful motherhood tapestry IS what makes your love real.
Your beauty is because you are Real.
Because you REALLY love.
~ Happy Mother’s Day ~