You might see imperfection
I see beauty in the miracle of life

You say this remedy will make them disappear
But I don’t want the memories to fade

They are a tangible memory
Not something to be ashamed of

When are they going to stop having babies? You think
I know one of my babies I’ll never hold again, I ache

They’re a road map of where I’ve been
A part of my journey through motherhood

They’re a constant reminder that God carried me
Through the deep, dark valley

Stretchmarks are a bittersweet memory
That I carried my son who is gone too soon

 

 

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