I’m fortunate to have a husband who really loves me. I know he does because the last five years of his life have been anything but sexy. Sure, we have sex… a lot of sex. So much sex that we have three beautiful children, one of which was even planned. And sure he tells me he thinks I’m sexy, that I’m hot and all that shit. 

When pregnant with Evie I gained over 50lbs; which is odd because I don’t remember delivering a 50lb baby. My last two months of pregnancy were December and January. I thought turtlenecks would be a cute look on a pregnant lady. Oh, was I so… so wrong. I look back at those photos and it looks like the neckline was slowly squeezing my head, swelling it up until it finally popped. 

I’ve been able to gain a little less weight with each subsequent pregnancy. I’m not sure how, considering I ate a sleeve or two of Oreos every night during Millie’s pregnancy. 

But really, this mans love for me must be monumental. He’s survived three pregnancies. He’s survived three grueling all natural labors. Labors where I yelled like a wild boar. Labors where I actually bit him, and peed on him, and with the help of Evie, sprayed him with amniotic fluid. 
He’s nurtured me back to health after each baby. He held my hand while I tried to have my first bowel movement after Evie. Literally sat there with me and coached me through my first postpartum poop. Which, if you didn’t do the math already, all occurred before our one year anniversary as a couple. 

A few weeks after delivering Evie I stared losing a lot more blood than you’re supposed to. Sean had just left for work and I was home alone taking care of our newborn. I sat up in our bed and felt a huge gush. As any woman who has had a child knows, that could be completely normal so I didn’t think much of it. I stood up to make my way to the bathroom and felt another gush, only this time it felt like a continual gush. Within seconds my pants were covered in blood and blood started to puddle on the floor. 

I set Evie down and leaned onto the walls of our hallway trying to make my way to our bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and the flow continued to increase. I dialed Sean, no answer. I called my OB, who told me to dial 911 since no one was home. I started to feel faint and my eye sight started going black. I crawled down to the floor and laid there bleeding. All I could think about was Evie crying out for me in the other room. I had to get someone to come for Evie. I dialed Sean, he answered and rushed back home. 

A few days later when I was back to normal, Sean admitted how terrified he was when he found me on the bathroom floor. He described how scary our home looked covered in blood; how awful it was to hear Evie crying out for me. Now when we talk about that day he claims I did it on purpose to frame him. 


I have now been nursing a baby for over four years. My once perky B cups have now taken on a much more National Geographic look. I will say the milk at least keeps him on his toes. He never knows what he’s gonna get. Sometimes leftie is a C, sometimes she’s much larger. But rightie and leftie apparently aren’t on speaking terms because they are never on the same page. 

But even after all that, this man practically humps my leg when he walks through the door after a day at work. I am fortunate to lose weight easily. Nursing helps, and I have been blessed with a very high metabolism. In our five years together Sean has watched my body transform time and time again. With each transformation I watch his attraction, and love grow. My confidence now isn’t because he finds me sexy, but because I finally feel safe. I know that I can feel confident in myself, and in my body. I am loved by a good man. 
I will get back to the gym eventually. I’ll put down the cookies and ice cream and stop eating whip cream like it’s one of the main food groups. Right now, I have to consume the sweets in order to remain sane. Cutting out sugar would make me a raging monster. Which in turn would make me a bad mother. “I have to put my children first,” I tell myself as I eat ice cream for lunch. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: