When it comes to my partner’s body after childbirth, I chose to say nothing at all. Honestly, her postpartum body is not my business. While I am her partner, my perspective on her physical changes ranks somewhere between a child’s critique of modern art and a toddler’s insistence on another bedtime story.
Let’s face it: pregnancy doesn’t occur in a vacuum, and I played a significant role in the transformation her body has undergone. When we decided to have a child, we envisioned a future filled with milestones—perhaps our child would walk on Mars or discover groundbreaking medical advancements. However, we also implicitly acknowledged the reality of pregnancy: “Hey, I’d like you to carry my child for nine months, which will profoundly influence your hormones, change your personality, and alter your body in ways you can’t fully anticipate. Not to mention, you’ll also become a natural food source and might gain enough weight to shift up several weight classes.” And that’s before we even consider the array of pregnancy symptoms, which could easily be mistaken for a pharmaceutical commercial’s most alarming side effects.
The physical effects of pregnancy become even more pronounced with each subsequent child. In our case, we have two kids, but my partner experienced pregnancy four times, resulting in a total of 26 months filled with discomfort, cravings (yes, pineapple and curly fries were genuine meal choices), and the aftermath of breastfeeding and surgeries like C-sections.
It’s important to acknowledge that while my partner’s body has indeed changed, that doesn’t diminish her beauty or worth. She remains the same fiery, remarkable individual I fell in love with. I, too, have changed. When I got married at 27, I was physically fit and active. Now, my exercise routine consists of lifting my daughter during playtime and running after my son while pretending to be a character from a popular movie. The biggest challenge I face these days is deciding whether to indulge in three slices of pizza or six during our takeout nights.
Judging my partner’s postpartum body feels not only selfish but also shortsighted. I lack the knowledge to fully grasp the complexities of her experiences, from the intricacies of recovery to the societal pressures new mothers encounter. For instance, if a friend from a recreational sports league suffered an injury, gained weight, and needed surgery, no one would question his appearance; instead, we’d be celebrating his recovery with high-fives. The difference with pregnancy is that, if all goes well, the mother not only survives but also brings a new life into the world—our child.
That child is now part of our family, which makes my partner’s postpartum body a beautiful representation of our shared journey. When I look at her, I see the love and strength that brought our family together. And yes, despite everything we’ve been through, she still chooses to share a bed with me.
For more insights on topics like postpartum recovery and family planning, you might find this article on intracervical insemination helpful. Additionally, check out Make a Mom for information on fertility supplements that can aid in the conception journey. Finally, if you’re seeking comprehensive resources on pregnancy and home insemination, Mount Sinai offers excellent guidance.
In summary, my partner’s postpartum body is a testament to her strength and resilience. It is a reminder that the journey of parenthood is filled with love, change, and shared experiences.