Oh, beautiful wife of mine, you are a miracle worker! Together, we conceived a new life, and then you lovingly and tenderly nurtured that fragile little life into a fully developed human. It took a […]
Oh, beautiful wife of mine, you are a miracle worker! Together, we conceived a new life, and then you lovingly and tenderly nurtured that fragile little life into a fully developed human. It took a little while. It took a lot of patience. It took a lot of energy. It cost you some sleep and caused some discomfort, but you made it look easy. You handled it all with grace and dedication. You worked a miracle over the past nine months.
I know you worried about gaining weight and stretching out and looking round and so forth. I get it. The pregnant woman doesn’t exactly fit our culture’s definition of beauty. You wondered in the quiet recesses of your heart if I still found you attractive or if you would ever be “pretty” again. Let me take this opportunity to assure you that you’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.
Sure, perky boobs and smooth curves have a certain appeal, but bringing forth life is more beautiful by far. Your beauty was at its zenith when I saw that little alien head come out of your body. You worked a miracle that night, almost three weeks ago.
I would much rather hold a son or a daughter in my arms than a swimsuit model. So, don’t go troubling yourself with worries about how you’ll get back your pre-baby body. I don’t want that body anyway. I want the body that has the story of our family written all over it. You know those stretch marks that you will try to cover up with the next bathing suit you buy? Those lines are the map of our generations. Just as the warrior wears his battle scars with pride, so too do you wear the marks of a miracle worker. So don’t hide those marks thinking they aren’t beautiful. Instead, let’s look at them together often, and remember the legacy they signify.
As if that weren’t enough already, you keep on working more and more miracles every single day. Your body nourishes the miniature body of our son. You are his source of life and his sustenance. The beauty I see each morning steals my breath away as I wake to the vision of you, sitting there holding him to your breast. Will the wonders never cease! You truly are a miracle worker, par excellence!
Your beauty cannot be measured in dress sizes. Your beauty is too great for any of those standards to describe. Your beauty is found in your character, in your heart, in the way you love your children and your husband, and in your tireless dedication to motherhood. Dress sizes can change by the week, but you remain beautiful always, as you continue to mature in your identity as a wife, mother and miracle worker.