Age or Beauty? 

During my periodic post-holiday de-cluttering and purging session, I came across an old box of photos. I paused to reflect over some pictures of myself, taken in the years B.C. (Before Children) and was struck by how fresh-faced and untroubled I looked. Today I saw myself ‘live’ on an iPod Face-Time chat with my son and was conversely struck by how worn and tired I looked. I got that sinking feeling one gets, similar to when one hears their own voice on an answer phone and thinks, please tell me that’s not really me. Yes, it's post-holidays so some of the lingering stress can undoubtedly be attributed to that (the last couple of weeks of the holidays had me marvelling at the irony that they are called 'holidays'), but I didn't find much comfort in that. The image was irrefutably there in all its glory.  

The trouble with such a frighteningly up-close, full frontal exposure is there is nowhere to hide. So I decided to "be" with it for a moment and took the time to make an honest assessment (all the while in a state of denial that I was actually looking at myself). The drooping jowls were the first thing I noticed, followed by the undeniable loosening of my neck. I pinched the skin under my chin and it didn't even float the idea of retracting back immediately. It actually retained its drawn out shape for what seemed like an inordinate period of time (not unlike a flour-filled stress ball) before lazily settling back into its resting position. The cluster of grey hair I thought I’d ingeniously disguised with blonde highlights was clearly still grey and fooling no-one. In fact, it appeared to have spawned itself since my last inspection. 

We all have those moments don’t we (don't we?). We’re still 25 on the inside, so it seems disheartening and incongruous to see a real-time physical image of ourselves that doesn’t match our mental image. It always makes me think of my own Mum when I see myself like that, which is actually quite a nice thought to gravitate towards because it offers me some comfort. Not because she is so much older than me, thereby easing me back into the relative position of being positively youthful by comparison, but because I've always considered her beauty to be a separate entity to her age. Her skin may have been more taut and her hair dark when I was growing up, but she was always beautiful to me, and will always remain so. Which brings me to the happy and encouraging conclusion that age and beauty are unrelated.  

During my spot-the-difference exercise, comparing my B.C. photos to the way I look today, I wondered whether having children speeds up the aging process, or whether the opposite is true. I’m sure there's an element of both. There are some who say that having children keeps you young, though I suspect they're taking about inside age rather than physical aging. I'm fairly certain I can attribute a great portion of the steady decline in my physical aging to having children. For a new mother, the back is generally the first thing to weaken, stemming from a preference to perch her baby until it walks on either the left or right hip (today's chiropractors advise mothers to mix it up for exactly that reason). Then there are the unfathomable bodily positions one has to get oneself into in order to safely insert a child into a car seat, or to disassemble a monstrous push-chair and squeeze it into a car boot full of shopping bags.    

If stress and worry contribute to aging, then without question, having children also gives birth to those tendencies. Having children brings with it hundreds of sleepless nights. Mothers begin their journey always keeping one ear open at night for confirmation and peace of mind their baby is breathing. For a very long time, they don't allow themselves the luxury of completely shutting down their conscious minds when they sleep - they must remain at their post. If their child is ill, no matter how old they are, a Mother will only ever sway on the cusp of sleep, for they must always be alert enough to leap forth with a bucket, a damp cloth, or a cuddle if an out-of-character splutter or plea for help is heard from their child's bedroom.

Despite the fact there is some truth that having children exposes us to more physical and mental stress than a childfree existence would, I believe our sacrifice is more than compensated for by the subliminal and graceful sort of rejuvenation that blossoms within our hearts as a result. The process of creating a new life, and being blessed with the mantel of responsibility to cherish something greater than ourselves fills us with renewed purpose, and passion for our own life. 

With these reflections in mind, I decided to have a closer inspection of myself after the iPod exposure. I looked in the mirror (not so closely I must admit) and yes, I do have some baggage under my eyes. But my eyes have two little twinkles in them too, which weren’t there before I had my boys. Yes, my skin is sagging a tad, but it’s also much softer than it once was. And not all the lines are from aging... many are from laughter. Though it may not be visible to all who look at me, I know there is something much deeper within me that lights my face up when I feel it. That thing is the phenomenal love and gratitude I hold for my children, and therefore life itself. In my heart, I know that's where real beauty resides, and suddenly age is of no consequence. I humbly suggest I'm much more beautiful now that I ever was in the years B.C, thanks to my children.

On a final note, I’m sure when my son saw my image pop up on his iPod today, he didn’t see me the way I saw myself in that brief moment. He didn't just see my face, he saw me. He saw his Mum. And I know deep down that time and the inevitability of my physical aging will never change that.

Mum’s The Word:

Next time you look at yourself in the mirror, no matter what you see on the surface, try to see and feel what your children do... unconditional love.