Spare Tires Exist For A Reason

This contribution has been made by a dear pal, Molly. If she had to be a fruit, it would be a grape.
“I like to share myself with many, I am sweet, with very thin skin and duh….wine.”

Hi.

So, this will come as no surprise to you, Fupa but I have been hating on you. Like really terribly, super meangirl, HATING on you. BUT, before you react, please understand that I realize what a ginormous dick I have been and I am truly sorry and we will ~totally~ hug after this but first I just need to get some things off my chest, k?

My dearest Fupa, I really do feel horrible to have thought such nasty things about you. We have been through the trenches together. There has been so much growing in the last 2 years, and so much shrinking too.

Together, we made a home for a healthy 9 lb baby boy! Holy shit! But together, for no lack of trying, we were not able to bring him into the world “naturally” or as educated and inclusive adults call it, vaginally.

In other words: GURL, you kind of fucked the birth plan.
And for too long, I felt like you let me down, sweet Fupa.

You know that gut-wrenching, lost big in the final seconds, pouring rain, heartbreak, lump in your throat, pit in your stomach kind of let down? Yeah, that. I just kind of lugged it around, every so often remembering the way in which I had failed to birth my child the way that I had been taught was “natural” and “best” and “the right way”.

But now I understand just how shitty I was to feel that way.

I was there with you, we tried our very best. But my hopes for a calm, watery home birth and the emergency c-section we received ran at complete parallels. Afterwards, I felt a lot of shame & guilt, (mostly self-generated) about our perceived failure. I used to torture myself sometimes and wonder what would have happened 100 years ago in the same circumstances. But I have decided I am going to stop thinking about that and just be grateful that our baby boy was born safely in today’s time and not a hundred years ago.

Fupa, my lovely. I am sorry I made you into a place to hold my negative feelings. From now on, to me you are a brave, beautiful piece of real estate; apart of a cherished body I will nurture, listen to, and love unconditionally.

I am sorry I terrorized you, rather than being kind, my sweet, dimply, scarred, pudgy, nerve-damaged “upper pussy area”. You are my sacred, life-giving womb and I am so grateful for you.

From now on, I will allow myself to feel grace & pride rather than horror when I notice you have escaped out from the bottom of my t- shirt to show yourself off to the world. And because of your bravery, I am going to start showing myself off, too.

I am so sorry. I get it, now.
Spare tires exist for a reason.

I love you,
Moll

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