The Magic Stripes

The Magic Stripes // angie warren

"What are those stripes on your belly mama?" she asked as I stepped out of the shower.

I thought for a moment, how does one begin to explain the stories these stripes hold? The twenty-seven months they grew three babies, the way they changed me, morphed me from one person to the next.

Is it possible to relay to her tiny mind the vast significance of the stripes? That someday she too will likely carry them, just as I do, just as her Nana did?

I ran my hand across my belly, soft, now empty of babies. Three of the four that began within me are now in my arms. I watched her eyes, big and full of wonder.

Almost a whisper, then I leaned down and said, "Those are mama's magic stripes! I got them as a special gift for getting to carry you and your brothers inside of me." She smiled and told me she likes them.

I do too, you know. I like that it's something my own mom and I shared. I like that they made me a mother. I like my magic stripes and I hope she, some day, will like hers as well.

Every scar has a story. How lucky am I to get to share these with her.