My husband forced me to jog every morning so I would “lose the baby weight.” Then his mother found out, and what she did next had him begging on the street.
I gave birth to our son only six weeks ago, and the delivery was far from easy.
After twenty-three hours of labor, I had to undergo an emergency C-section. Before I left the hospital, my OB looked me straight in the eye and told me not to do any intense exercise for at least eight weeks.
My husband, Ryan, sat beside me and nodded like he understood.
But the moment we got home, he acted as if the doctor had been exaggerating.
“She’s just being cautious,” he said. “You’ve already put on enough weight. The sooner you lose it, the sooner you’ll look like yourself again.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh.
He didn’t.
Then he added, “You don’t want everyone’s wives whispering about how much you let yourself go, do you?”
The next morning, he woke me at 5:30.
“Put your sneakers on.”
I had barely slept. Our son had been up most of the night, and my stitches still pulled every time I stood too quickly.
Ryan handed me the baby so I could feed him, then took him back the second I finished. After that, he woke our teenage daughter and told her to watch her brother while we were gone.
Then he pointed toward the door.
“Go.”
Every step hurt.
My body felt fragile, like one wrong movement could split me open again. But Ryan drove slowly behind me in his BMW, watching.
If I slowed down, he honked.
If I stopped, he rolled down the window.
“You’re not quitting after two minutes.”
That became our routine.
Every single morning.
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