Last week, I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when I stumbled upon a post that unexpectedly captured my attention. It was a young woman, a new mother, standing confidently in a sports bra and panties, holding her newborn just a few weeks old. But this wasn’t just another sweet mother-and-child moment; it was something much deeper. She went beyond the polished smiles and the carefully curated postpartum pictures that flood social media. She was raw, unfiltered, and unapologetic. She bared not just her body, but her truth—a truth many of us know but rarely speak about.
The comments section was split. Some applauded her bravery, while others criticized her for showing too much. But she was unbothered, standing in her vulnerability with a bandage still covering her second C-section incision. Her belly, darkened by the aftermath of birth, bore fresh stretch marks that told the silent yet profound story of her journey. Her body was a canvas of love—a testament to the stretching, scarring, and sacrifices required to bring forth life.
I couldn’t help but relate. I have undergone four C-sections myself, yet I would never have had the courage to take such a picture. Still, as I look down at my own scars, I am forever reminded of the immense stretching I endured not just physically, but in every way possible—to birth my children one by one.
God, in His divine design of a woman, intricately wove within us the ability for our cervix to stretch ten times its normal size to bring forth life. Yet, for mothers like this young woman and myself, medical necessity required a different kind of opening, a different kind of stretching. Where others could quickly recover and return to their pre-pregnancy bodies, we were left with incisions, with scars, with reminders of the cost of love.
And isn’t love always like that? Whether in motherhood, relationships, or marriage, love will stretch you, reshape you, and leave its marks. It requires you to change—your sleeping habits, your diet, your lifestyle, your budget, your mindset. It forces you to grow in ways you never imagined. It is uncomfortable, often painful, and sometimes requires being cut open, exposing your deepest vulnerabilities. But just as childbirth brings forth something beautiful, so does love.
Love is not just the euphoria of passion, the glow of romance, or the dreamy ideals we hold. It is labor. It is sacrifice. It is stretching beyond what we think we can endure. It is counting it all joy, even when it hurts. Because in the end, the scars and the stretch marks are not just reminders of pain—they are proof that we gave everything we had to bring forth something worth loving.