Back in Shape

I have been asked, in all genuine care and curiosity, when I am going to "get back in shape" after pregnancy. Back. In. Shape. It's been four years since I had Rowan, 16 months since Kestrel. Before Rowan, I was a total gym dog and powerlifter. I was actually recruited for the gym's bodybuilding team. I was like that, back then. But now? I will never "get back in shape". Because before, I was a Maiden, and after, I was a Mother. Forever afterwards, I am mother-shaped. The four-pack abs are gone forever. Which is biologically as it should be. I was lucky enough to be able to breastfeed. That keeps poundage on, since biologically, you're supposed to retain fat, so that if there's a food scarcity, you can keep feeding your baby. That fat? That's there for survival of the species. I think I have better endurance now than I ever had before. But then again, caring for a small being is incredible 24/7 exhausting work. I am not model-thin nor am I muscularly toned. But by god, I can move mountains. Of laundry, of dirty dishes, of toys, of odds insurmountable for my litte tribe. My body is working the way it's supposed to, to be a mother to the race. And there is something incredibly powerful about that. More powerful than my gym-induced weightlifter body ever was. Because this body is formed this way not only by purpose, but by the evolutionary pressures of the ages. The pressures that I am the successful result of. A few weeks ago, I was laying on the bed, and Rowan came over to tickle. My shirt got pulled up, and he sat back and started tracing my belly stretchmarks (most of which came from my pregnancy with him). Got this huge smile. And then said "Mama, you are so beautiful." I would not trade that for my old four-pack abs. Not in a million years.