This is my current body. At nine months postpartum, without my layers and colors, I look like I’m twenty-five to thirty weeks pregnant. I have to look at this frame in the mirror everyday, and get familiar with the stretch marks and the lumps. I have the accept the marks as part of my growth and journey. They will forever remind me of the fight I went through to keep Zuli safe inside of me. They will forever remind me of my strength. They are lines of the purest love. And I believe they are the greatest example of what life is all about. Beautiful. Raw. Unapologetic. But underneath these lines of strength, love, and life, live nine uterine fibroids and signs endometriosis.
Together, Zuli and I spent one hundred and forty days in the hospital this year. The day before I was admitted in the hospital, I spent most of it vomiting and feeling nauseated, lightheaded. It was a cold day in January, and I was scheduled to speak on a panel at the WeWorks in downtown Austin about social media and branding with Planoly. I came close to cancelling it, but I convinced myself I would feel better once I had my headwrap and bright lipstick on. I mustered all the energy I had, got ready, and showed up.