No I’m not pregnant
This is the home of my babies.
The cauldron in which they grew 
The round curve that speaks of my visits between the realms to grow and collect my children. Some of them made it earthside. Some did not.
This belly that moves when I walk speaks of ecstasy and pain.
It is my guru. Teaching me to love beyond my culturalisation.
Asking me to look beyond the praise I was raised with.
The idolisation of the “perfect body.” I mean what even is that??
It speaks of motherhood.
The stage in which our culture would prefer I would not have visual signs of.
A culture that would congratulate me feverishly if I lost my belly quickly after giving birth so that I went back to how I was.
That I looked more like the maiden I was.
And I’ve done this.
A few times.
And this time I didn’t.
I sat with her.
This soft jelly like glorious tummy.
I sat with the hate I felt.
I listened to the horrific words that went through my thoughts. I really listened. Wow! They were mean. Really mean.
Confusing at times because I can never recall thinking these cruel thoughts about other women?
I sat with them noticing that they actually were not my thoughts but what I was taught to think by culture.
And slowly very slowly they got quieter.
As I reminded myself of the powerful beautiful being I am. That I am a creator. That life has formed within me. That this roundness was the place where the feminine resides.
That being a mother was an absolute gift.
Suddenly those words thoughts and feels lost their sting.
I saw them for what they were. Brainwashing by a culture that makes billions of dollars off me wanting to be a maiden my whole life. Period!
Why should I want to hide my place of glory.
Why would the man I love not revere the womb in which his child came from.
Unless he were under that same delusion. It’s been a journey of me being really honest with myself. An experiment of sorts. It’s been about embracing the calling of the “mother” for me.
About embracing change and difference. That throughout my journey in life I will look different a million times. The seasons and cycles of life flow through me. I am them and they are me.
Sometimes those mean thought come back and I feel that sting. I love them away.
Motherhood is a sacred journey and she should never be asked to hide herself.
May she express herself how she will through me and may I remember to give her the reverence she deserves.

Erica Nettle-Chik

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