–by Mary Helen Darah
PUBLICATION DATE: APRIL 17, 2018

It’s official. I am middle aged—even though I still don’t buy that it is the “middle” of my life. I wouldn’t put money on the odds of me living to be 106. I could go into the gory details but the fact that I am beachside and currently attired in a two-piece bathing suit with a skirt sealed my fate. I could wallow in pity at the loss of my youth but something miraculous has happened along the way to fine lines, a behind that looks like it got hit by a frying pan and “tiger stripes” as my daughter calls the lineage around my neck. I have become REAL.

The classic tale of The Velveteen Rabbit, written by the brilliant Margery Williams Bianco, reminds us that becoming REAL isn’t a pretty process. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby,” she writes. Anyone who has mothered knows that the fleeting eighteen years of hands-on mothering can be torture on your body. You get spit upon, lines in your heinie from sitting on metal bleachers through countless soccer, swim and tennis matches and lose control of many of your bodily functions. I recall being at Costco as a nursing mother. A kind woman came up to me and quietly told me that my milk was leaking. In total panic mode, I said some less than lady-like words under my breath as I frantically looked down at my top for “leakage.” She smiled wisely, as the seasoned mother that she was and said, “No dear. I meant the milk in your cart.”

My “warrior rabbits,” as I like to refer to my fellow breast cancer survivor buddies, always come to mind when I recall the ageless tale of the Velveteen Rabbit. Their strength knows no bounds as they lose hair, their firm shapes and even a few body parts. The worst is the loss of nose hairs that I must tell you are not just decorative but functional. But then something incredible happens. These fluff-less women are empowered. They cannot relay on luxurious coats, bright eyes, or shiny buttons. As they face the world bare and vulnerable they come to rely on faith, inner strength and character. It is also difficult for many, including myself, to experience others not understanding that their true beauty lies within. Going through the “journey” I gained a whole new perspective. I may have been a poor, little, rumpled rabbit, but I was ALIVE. I got to experience another day hugging my kids, laughing at my crazy little family, seeing another sunset on Maple Lake, hearing my parents jokingly banter over the breakfast table, playing with my dog and other countless precious moments that became far more significant than how I looked in a bathing suit. The Skin Horse from the Velveteen Rabbit says it best, “Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

I know if an archaeological expedition ever dug up my shell that has carried me through this incredible life, they would be perplexed. They would wonder why one arm was longer than the other (from being pulled by my youngest), one hip would be off kilter (from attempting to jiggle and calm an infant prone to projectile vomiting and colic) and countless bangs, nicks and contusions from living, really living,

a REAL life.