Before I became pregnant, someone told me, "Don't have a baby. Babies ruin your body."
It has been more than a year since Anabel began her life. This time last year, she was a microscopic speck in my stomach, and we were announcing our pregnancy. Between then and now, I have gained and lost 50 pounds. Four months after her birth, my body still carries proof of her existence.
Do you realize the significance in that? Every limb, finger, toe ... her heart, even, developed near the very place my own heart beats inside of my chest. Those mountains of skin are all I have left to prove that we were once one and not two.
How can I be ashamed of that?