Even before we were married, my husband and I felt completely at ease with each other. All the shyness and awkwardness that typically comes at the start of a relationship never existed for us. We shared everything—our thoughts, our jokes, our silly habits—without hesitation. Even the most mundane, unglamorous moments, like bodily functions, quickly became a source of humor rather than embarrassment.
When my daughter and I moved into his house in March of 2017, everything felt natural. He didn’t bat an eye when my then-three-year-old ran naked through the house on her way to the bathtub. He laughed at her random, witty comments that only a toddler could make. When his teenage daughter joined us on her weekends, we quickly figured out our roles and rhythms as a blended family. It all clicked effortlessly. Within a year, we were married—on St. Patrick’s Day, 2018.
On the nights we had the house to ourselves—my daughter spent half her time with her dad—I would often leave the bathroom door open after a shower to let the steam escape. While I dried my hair or slathered on moisturizer, he would come to the doorway to continue a conversation or tell me about something I had missed in the show he was watching. I never minded him seeing me in the unflattering, real-life moments that weren’t supposed to be sexy.
Even after having my daughter, I had been lucky to never struggle with my weight. When we married, I weighed 110 pounds. I would exercise occasionally to tone up, but my naturally slender frame never caused me concern.
Then, in September 2018, we discovered I was pregnant with our son. From the very beginning, we knew he would be a big baby. I gained over 50 pounds and struggled through the discomfort until he arrived, five days past his due date, weighing almost 10 pounds, on June 27, 2019.
Postpartum life settled into a rhythm more smoothly than I expected. I was breastfeeding every two hours and surviving on little sleep, just like any new parent. The baby weight was coming off gradually—until it wasn’t. Around two months after his birth, my weight plateaued, stubbornly clinging to 25–30 pounds above my goal. I tried to remind myself that I was still early in my postpartum journey, but I couldn’t help feeling self-conscious for the first time in years.
Everything about my body had changed. My breasts were heavy, my stomach was no longer flat, and stretch marks marked my butt, still visible. My legs and even my arms were larger than I’d ever experienced. I stopped opening the bathroom door after showers, choosing to sweat through the steam as I dressed, even in the sweltering Texas summer.
Through it all, my husband’s love never wavered. I tearfully shared my insecurities, worried he might see me differently now that my body had changed. But he never faltered. He reassured me constantly, reminding me that I was beautiful, that this was temporary, and that our love wasn’t about appearances.
I began to exercise, but the first attempts left me sore and exhausted. Each day, he encouraged me, saying it would get easier, that it would get better. And slowly, I started to feel the spark of confidence returning. When I put on jeans at the first hint of fall, he followed me to the car, kissing me over and over, telling me how good I looked. He even jokes that if we don’t shape up, our kids will be outrunning us soon—but we laugh together, knowing we’ll get there in time.
I’ve started leaving the bathroom door open again. More than once, he’s walked by to put our son to bed or finish a conversation, pausing to take in my new body in full light. “Rawr,” he’ll tease, flicking his eyebrows playfully, making me laugh every time.
I still don’t feel fully like myself. I hope time and exercise will help me shed some weight. But right now, I can relax in the love and acceptance my husband shows me every day. We’re just as happy in sweatpants, eating junk food, and enjoying each other’s company as we ever were.
We love each other not for how we look, but for how we treat one another, how we nurture our family, and how open we can be with one another. We’re proud to welcome a happy, healthy son into our family. That’s far more important than any number on a scale or how a body appears.
I am lucky. Lucky to have a partner who sees me completely, who loves me unconditionally, and who will always make me feel safe enough to open the door—literally and figuratively.
