The left shoulder of every shirt I own is perpetually covered in puke.
My belly is a collage of stretch marks and my belly button, once a cute outie during pregnancy, is now a cavernous hole.
My thighs are sturdier and my hips wider.
I’m still wearing my maternity jeans.
But as I look in the mirror, I see my most beautiful self. My body is now evidence of my greatest accomplishment: my beautiful baby boy.