I dreaded wearing a swimsuit eight months after having my baby, but nothing prepared me for my mother-in-law mocking my body over breakfast while the whole family laughed—and my husband stayed silent. Four days later, one choice I didn’t make left her screaming at me in front of everyone.
I packed my bags with a heavy heart, folding tiny onesies between my own clothes.
I was dreading the week ahead.
Our son had been born eight months earlier, and my body still felt like a stranger’s.
My confidence had sunk somewhere I couldn’t reach.
“You’re overthinking this,” Dylan said, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s just the beach. Everyone relaxes.”
I was dreading the week ahead.
“Everyone relaxes,” I repeated. “Have you met your mother?”
He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that avoided the question.
That told me everything.
I slipped one thing into the suitcase that made me feel brave.
