One afternoon, my spirited 2-year-old, Mia, dashed through the house as her dad chased her, giggling, “No, Daddy, don’t catch me!” In a split second, she collided headfirst into the kitchen island, and the loud thud made my heart drop. I rushed over, grabbing her face as she cried, bracing myself for the sight of a budding bruise. But to my shock, blood covered my hand when I pulled it away.
In that moment, I experienced a whirlwind of emotions—fear, frustration directed at my husband, and guilt that I wasn’t the one chasing her. Ultimately, a visit to the hospital resulted in two staples in Mia’s head. Yet, as I reflected on the incident, a deeper realization began to surface.
I had a fleeting thought: she was now “damaged” because of the scar she would carry. I remembered feeling something similar when I discovered she had a chipped tooth. “She’s not perfect anymore,” I thought. Where were these harsh judgments coming from?
I have my own share of imperfections—freckles (or sun damage, perhaps), stretch marks, scars from multiple surgeries, and a collection of tattoos that tell the story of my life. Each mark narrates struggles and triumphs: growing up under New Zealand’s fierce sun, enduring puberty’s changes, and navigating life’s challenges, including mental health struggles and the joys of motherhood.
Mia, however, is and will always be perfectly imperfect. That fleeting concern about her being “damaged” quickly faded; her worth in my eyes remained unchanged. She exudes confidence and joy. Yet, my own struggles with self-image seem to linger, often harder to shake off.
Through my journey of loving my daughters, I’ve realized the importance of extending that same love to myself. I recognize that they are inherently valuable, and I believe the same is true for myself—and for you, too.
As I embrace my journey into womanhood, I am starting to appreciate imperfections—they are where our stories reside. There’s a beauty in sharing our scars, something we women excel at when we understand their significance rather than fearing the flaws. We are not damaged; we are perfectly imperfect, just as we are meant to be.
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In summary, my toddler has shown me that embracing our imperfections is vital in the journey of self-love. We all have our stories, and it’s time we celebrate them.