I don't get too hung up about birthdays. Mostly I am thankful I got this far as I have held the hands and hearts of people that didn't. I do get contemplative on my birthday though. I tend to take stock of what's happening in my life and what I want to accomplish and experience and make sure I am set up to do just that. I think because I am loud and outgoing people think I am extroverted but truly I am a little introverted. Hence the biggest gift I could receive on this big birthday was a few days on a trip by myself. I am so thankful to have a partner that understands that about me. My partner is the biggest gift of these forty years - everything is better because of him.
I have been thinking about women at 40 and what that would look like for me. My hopes had been to get into "really good" shape by my birthday. A few things prevented that goal - one of which is having a 3rd baby at 38 who is the absolute joy of our family. Then I got busy with motherhood and medicine and pushed working on my body to the back burner. I do not beat myself up about this. I will likely get back to working on my body again but not from a point of vanity. I am deeply loved just the way I am. Mostly because I know it's an important part of taking care of myself which is something that tends to get sidelined if I am stressed. Bodies are a funny thing to talk about because they are often wrapped up in self-worth. I rebel against the idea that my worth is wrapped into my weight or my youth. In fact I am pretty liberated by the fact that I am 40 now and I am taking no shit. Things I would have tolerated before I just don't anymore. I will take up space. I have existed on this earth, have experience and knowledge to share and I do not need to be smaller to make you more comfortable. When I was younger a friend's husband said that my personality "filled up a room". It was not a compliment. That is until my husband said "Does this room make my personality look fat?" - a quip we use to this day. My personality does fill up a room though and I have exhaled it into the corners of spaces - I exist not to make others feel small but I won't dim my light so that you feel more comfortable. Come shine with me.
So sitting here on the stunning balcony of my amazing apartment in Trinity Beach in Queensland looking out to the Coral Sea I want to talk about something that women so often don't want to talk about. This is my love letter to my imperfect beloved body.
This trip has been a big realization for me - I am truly an expert in my field. My brain carried me there. I was very stressed coming to Australia that I was on a panel of experts with people who's papers I have read - experts in the field. It wasn't until after I held my own on that panel (without my slides that didn't load) that I realized I was an expert too! I am very lucky that my brain is a library of medical knowledge but also remembers my patients and their stories so when a patient came up to me in Melbourne with tears in her eyes from 6 years ago I knew who she was and her condition. My brain is magnificent and I am so thankful for it.
One of my favourite poems is by W.B. Yeats "When you are Old"
"How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;"
I think of this poem often while I watch my face slowly change in the mirror. While I do miss the woman with less lines on her face I am happy to have earned each and every one of them. They are the proof of a thousand worries and tears, millions of bouts of laughter and smiles between friends and strangers. My eyes may occasionally need my dark-rimmed glasses to properly read powerpoint or to protect me during surgery but they can still appreciate the beauty of novels, the faces of my children and the majestic Coral sea. This mouth of mine often gets me into trouble but it's also bold and brave. I try to speak for the voiceless, the people who aren't afforded the mouthpiece of a white, cisgender woman of high socioeconomic status. I still sing loudly and love to do so - as recently at the raucous dance party at the end of my conference in Melbourne (what a fun international work community!). I still smile most of my day as I have so much to smile about. This mouth has also shared countless kisses - with friends, with the children that I have been blessed to have as a part of my life, with my babies as they fall asleep and with the man I love more and more deeply after 15 years of marriage.
My shoulders and arms have carried the weight of many worries - my own and those of my friends and patients. I have cradled countless babies in my arms as they have left their mothers. What a tremendous honour to be the first touch of new life as it enters the world. That I get to make the transition of life a little less scary for babies as I love each and every one of them as I transfer them to their mama's chests or to the waiting arms of the skilled paediatric team. I have cradled my own babies countless times. I hope to fill their childhoods with hugs, kisses and love. I can't do everything for them but I can let them know how immensely loved they are and fill their human need for touch and connection. My arms have wrapped around countless necks and waists in embraces all over the world. I am a huggy person and I forgot how other cultures often embrace longer and how I really love that.
These hands of mine can do amazing things. They can play piano, write on this keyboard, make my children's Halloween costumes and braid my daughter's hair. They can feed giraffes and pet kangaroos, hold birds and pat puppies. They can also cut you open, save the life of you and your baby and sew you back up again with a small scar you can barely see. They can hold another person's hand in their happiness or grief.
My heart is my superpower beating in my chest. It sustains this beloved body but it also pours love into everything I do and everyone I meet. I care deeply and I have the courage to open my heart again, even when it has been hurt, to pour love out again and to be loved in return. Love fills this big beautiful heart.
My belly is not flat. It bears the scars of birthing three children and removing a tumour that thankfully was not cancer. That is my battle scar and it makes me feel like a warrior and I am not ashamed of it. My belly is bigger than it's been in a long time and it may be smaller and bigger again - who knows? As a good friend said - "Bodies are transient - good ones and bad ones." This belly, the one I have right now is mine. It works and it does not cause me pain. It shows the evidence of countless amazing meals prepared with love. It shakes when I laugh really hard (which is often).
My hips have carried my children up and down stairs to bedtime. They have propped up pregnant bellies when I deliver babies via c-section. They have danced in countless countries with total abandon including my favourite place - our kitchen dance party. Big or small - these hips move.
My legs and feet have taken me further than I ever imagined I would go. They have stood on the Great Wall of China at sunrise, crawled into a Great Pyramid, ascended the steps of the Duomo in Florence and climbed down into a canyon (with Cian on my back) in Hell's Gate in Kenya. I have stood in wonder at Victoria Falls, Valley of the Kings, Chichen Itza, Kilimanjaro and the Masai Mara. These legs have climbed onto an elephant in Zimbabwe, a camel in Egypt, a donkey in Greece, and horses in countless countries (those beautiful animals!). My feet have squished into the pink sand of Bermuda and the white sand of Fiji, Grand beach and Bondi beach. I have dipped my toes into five of the Seven Seas. I haven't been everywhere but it's on my list :) and I have been so fortunate to experience what I have, in part due to the healthy strength of my legs and feet.
It isn't inherently easy to write positive things about one's body without caveats. This piece of writing has been mulling around in my head for a while so I thought I would share it in hopes that other people would be reminded of all the things their bodies can do too. Thank you to this body for 40 years of experiences. I look forward to what the future holds.
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