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
