My body will never be the same. On my wedding day I felt like a shining star – flawless and bright. I wore the elegant Casablanca one-shoulder dress I had dreamed of for years. Sparkling crystal jewelry adorned my ears and wrist. A professional attended to my makeup and hair. Even my bridesmaids spent their time helping me to look my best.
Day three of the honeymoon: something was amiss. I was dizzy and fatigued, among other not-so-pretty symptoms. Calling anyone back home and admitting that I wasn’t feeling well on the most romantic vacation of my life was out of the question. So I consulted Google. It’s sometimes tricky to get truth out of the internet, but lo and behold, I was in fact a walking textbook of early pregnancy signs. (Every pregnant woman does not experience them – but I’ve always been the sensitive type.)
Justin and I were over the moon with this new possibility of a baby on the way. It was exactly what we had dared to hope for!
My body will never be the same. The thought flitted into my mind for a brief moment. I had a one-way ticket to motherhood. That pretty little bikini in my suitcase? I better get my money’s worth out of it now.
As I look back on the pregnancy from the point of 38 weeks, it’s hard for me to ignore this truth that I’ve come to know: the first thing a mother gives up for her child is her very body. Along with the joy, there is a sadness knowing that your body will be marked by the journey of pregnancy and childbirth forever. My body will never be the same.
I can’t help but see a parallel in Christ’s sacrifice for us. He gave his very body for us. He endured great bodily pain so that the plan of salvation could be fulfilled, and we could become the Children of God. And guess what? When he rose from the grave, he was still marked by the journey he had taken. John 20:27 says: “Then [Jesus] said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Jesus’ body was forever marked by the nails and the spear. His body would never be the same.
And so my shame becomes a healthy glow. Whatever marks remain on my body – they are simply evidence of the wonderful things that God has done. And I will have had a tiny little taste of what it is like to sacrifice my body for a Child of God.