It was a scorching summer day in 1973 when I first faced the inevitable truth that my body would change with age. I was still young and strong enough to expect to always be young and strong. That all changed the day I noticed my butt had fallen on top of the Smoky Mountains. I detected this unexpected betrayal of the human flesh, high above the rest of the world, where gravity still exists to keep us all grounded. Being a woman has enabled me to face many such difficult situations with laughter, just as I did on that long ago day in the mountains.
My young family and I had been traveling in a hot humid car in the North Carolina Mountains and stopped at a scenic overlook for a short break. When I climbed from my yellow Chevy Nova, I felt a cool breeze high on the back of my legs. The seat of my pink and white seersucker shorts was no longer covering my bottom as it had that morning. Dimpled flesh winked from the bottom of the cute little pre-pregnancy short shorts I had purchased with such joy and youthful abandonment the previous summer.
I had delivered my first child in January and although I had lost the last of the stubborn pregnancy pounds it was apparent to me on this day that my body would never be quite the same again. Evidently parts of it had shifted that would never return to their rightful place. Although the change was an unexpected shock to me at first, I could only laugh as I quickly tied a sweater around my waist and gazed in wonder at the beauty of the majestic mountains surrounding me.
This was the first of many lessons motherhood and age taught me over the years but perhaps the most precious. I learned early to forgive my body for letting me down when I least expected it. I learned to take joy from the life lived instead of being so conscious of any physical shortcomings I might encounter. I learned to feel love from the people in my life who saw my soul instead of my body. I learned to appreciate what I could bring to the people in my world versus what I saw when I looked in the mirror.
The children would grow strong and be able to outrun me very soon. Friday nights would no longer be for dancing the night away in my lover’s arms. I was a mom now and my body would be used to hold still a wiggling child while a broken bone was set. My arms would comfort a sick babe as none other could. My hands would sooth the scrapes of their world. My heart would ache for all of their hurts and disappointments in life while offering a smile of love. My feet would allow me to walk the floor in worry while awaiting their safe return.
Turning thirty or even forty was not traumatic for me in the way it might be for some women. I’ve loved each birthday as I have the passage of each year, for what it had to offer me. In my early thirties, I decided to go to college and at forty, I finally graduated. Life hasn’t always been easy but it has been fun. I’ve always expected the best things to be just around the next corner, even when they weren’t there.
I’ve watched my daughters grow into strong young women facing their own hard truths. I see their youthful wisdom and am proud of a job well done. A little granddaughter is now following the footsteps of those before her and life goes on.
Now I’m even looking forward to fifty. That day when my butt fell on top of the mountains has helped me acknowledge my body’s limitations, but I have gained more than I have ever lost.
In accepting my body’s changes due to pregnancy and childbirth, I accepted and loved myself for who I was at the time. In loving my children more than myself, I had learned to love myself for who I was inside instead of how I looked on the outside.
Through the years, I have alternated between accepting the addition of extra pounds and at times working hard to shed those same pounds. I’ve resigned myself to gray hair one day only to turn around and color it the very next. Acceptance doesn’t always mean going down without a fight. I try to exercise and eat right but I’m not against having a few joys in life either. I sincerely believe that ice cream is God’s gift to weary women.
I’ve grown accustomed to thinning hair and a softer body. I’ve risen to fulfill higher expectations, as I am suddenly the rock for those around me. I’ve lived through the death of loved ones. I’ve survived disappointments that only a mother can know. I’ve learned to cope with what I must. I am no longer young and innocent but am strong in a new way.
As fifty slowly meanders forward like a slow boat on a long river, I breathe deeply and anticipate with great joy what my next fifty years might bring. I really like the person that I have become and can only imagine what growth and wisdom I still have ahead of me. Most importantly, I can still chuckle when I remember that long ago day on top of Old Smoky.
After reading this at an event yesterday I realized it’s almost a Mother’s Day story so I decided to share with my readers. It is included in my collection, Saxapahaw Girl. Learn more on my website.
elizabethsolazzo.com