This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2017, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

On my way to pick up baby Harvey after work last week, I saw a woman walking up the steepest part of 300 South as it nears the University of Utah. She had a happy (not small) baby strapped to her chest, legs dangling, and she was pushing a large (presumably not light) stroller carrying a larger kidlet in front of her. It had to have been between 50 and 75 pounds of extra weight she was moving, and she was barely breaking a sweat.

She might have been on her way somewhere, or maybe just out for a high-power workout (she'd have no need for CrossFit or pilates) — I don't know. But she was fierce and I darn near wanted to pull over and give her a hoot and a high-five.

This all happened in a moment, so I didn't get a good look at her. But, even if I had more time, I'm not sure I'd remember what she looked like or what she was wearing. I just saw a mighty mama (I assumed the kids were hers — sue me) powering up a mountain at a 45-degree angle while carrying weighty, albeit adorable, cargo. And she was doing it gracefully. What a boss.

For some reason (perhaps my own realization that I'm sometimes a jerk to myself), I wondered if she sees herself the way I saw her.

My mind then jumped to two writers I worked with recently. They're both mothers who juggle family life and freelance work effortlessly. When they came to get headshots for the publication a couple weeks ago, they both apologized for their appearance. These talented, bright, kind and beautiful women both managed to casually say less nice things about themselves than I bet they would ever say about anyone else. It took me by surprise because, for one, they're genuinely nice people, and two, because they are so overwhelmingly talented and accomplished.

And while I completely disagree with their self-assessments, I 100 percent identify with their perspective. When I noticed recently the harsh things I say to myself on a regular basis, I wondered if I might be catching a distorted reflection of me. I can be ruthless! In fact, I wrote a piece a couple months ago called, "I'm the fattest person in America (and other lies I tell myself)" when I was feeling particularly down about looking like I had recently had a baby — when, in fact, I had recently had a baby. (How is it that society makes us feel like we should always look like we're ready for some baby-making, but never look like we've actually made babies?)

My sister said something wise about this that I hope I'm able to someday internalize. We were talking about why she had started jogging regularly after she had her first babe. She was very pregnant with her second, sitting cross-legged on the floor and stood up while holding the three-year-old in her arms (She-Ra!), and said, "My body miraculously produced two human beings, and I'm not trying to erase that from its history. What I want to be for my kids is strong and healthy, not critical and shameful."

That rattles around in my brain sometimes when I'm wishing away stretch marks or grieving the loss of perkiness I knew in the days of yore.

But then I think, if there's anything that 33 hours of natural labor taught me about myself, it's that I'm strong and healthy. Like the lady on 300 South. So, I'm going to do my best to start seeing myself that way — even if it is a steep hill to climb.

Marina Gomberg's lifestyle columns appear on sltrib.com. She is a communications professional and lives in Salt Lake City with her wife, Elenor Gomberg, and their son, Harvey. You can reach Marina at mgomberg@sltrib.com.