We went to visit a friend’s new baby. She was only a few months old, and we brought along a meal and a few little goodies, hoping to ease the overwhelming load that comes with a newborn. I walked through the door of their stunning, suburban dream home, juggling bags and my children, and my eyes landed on her. She looked impossibly thin—so much so that she could have made Heidi Klum look like a hobo. Her body was flawless, but tiredness clung to her in that way new mothers often do. There wasn’t an ounce of baby weight left, just a few months after giving birth. Meanwhile, my youngest was still a toddler, and I was far from the “perfect shape” I imagined for myself.
I smiled, said hello, and tried to carry on, but inside, I judged myself. I know it was shallow and ridiculous, but I did it. Instead of celebrating my own progress after three boys, instead of remembering that everyone’s body and journey are different, instead of offering myself the same compassion I would give another woman, I criticized myself harshly. I still feel ashamed that I let those thoughts creep in.
Then, just this past week, I learned something heartbreaking. That woman is in jail and has permanently lost custody of her child because she’s an addict—addicted to crystal meth, which, if you didn’t know, can cause extreme weight loss. I wept for her family, for the daughter who has lost her mother, and for the woman now facing years behind bars, battling a disease that most never fully conquer.
In that moment, I realized something profound. I had judged her by appearances, by a surface that hid a painful reality. How often do we do that with others? What if, instead of getting caught up in my own insecurities and comparing myself, I had really seen her? What if I had noticed her struggles and offered help before it spiraled out of control? What if I had put my judgment aside and paid attention to her truth instead of my own reflections?
Her story isn’t about me, but it left me with a lesson I won’t forget. I still feel foolish for my shallow thoughts that day, but now I am wiser for it. Learn from my mistake: do not measure yourself against someone else’s appearance or assumed life. You can never know the battles someone is fighting behind closed doors. What is yours to do is show compassion, check in with those around you, create safe, judgment-free spaces, and love—not superficially, but with real care and presence. That is the only measure that matters.
