This photo was important to me.
I wanted evidence of my victory.
I wanted celebration of my body.
And I wanted it to really look like me.

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The me my children will know. 
The me that exists outside of filters, Lightroom, and editing.
The me that I fully am. 

Being what I haven’t seen before is scary.

Just this moment.
Where I raised my fist in a sign of strength, like many other mothers I’ve seen on both Instagram and Facebook, honestly all over the internet between blogs and news sites.

But I haven’t seen fat mothers do this. I haven’t seen C-section mothers do this. I haven’t seen myself reflected in these photos.

Being what I haven’t seen before is scary. Even posting this I’m apprehensive because I can see things about this photo that I know people will judge.

No criticism will change that I am feeding my baby the way I want to.

That fear tells me how much this is needed. If I’m afraid to show this, even with all of the love and appreciation I have for my body, how many others are hiding, just as I have been?

That fear tells me to press forward. 
To do the scary thing. 
To be the scary thing.
To hold room for others to show up through their fear. 
To face the criticism I know is coming. 

Related: C-section mamas are beautiful, strong & brave 

Because no criticism will change that I birthed the way I wanted to.
No criticism will change that I am feeding my baby the way I want to.
No criticism will change what my body has been able to do.
No criticism will change the path that got me here. 
And no amount of criticism will take this moment away from me.

Love will though.
Support will though.
Connection will though.
Community will though.
And visibility will though.
These things will take this photo, this moment, and make it more.
More beautiful.
More common.
More celebratory.
More universal. 

More.