Giving birth to our first child was beautiful… and brutal. I had a tough delivery — tearing, blood loss, and my body felt like it had been through a war. For the first couple of weeks, I could barely stand, let alone walk to the bathroom alone. Adult diapers became a necessity, and pride went out the window.
My husband never once complained. Every time I needed to go, he’d gently help me out of bed, support me to the bathroom, lift me onto the toilet, wait patiently, then lift me off again. He’d clean me up if needed, pull my diaper back up with zero awkwardness, and carry me straight back to bed like I was the most precious thing in the world.
One particularly exhausting night, I was too weak to even try walking back. He scooped me up effortlessly, carried me to the bedroom, and laid me down carefully. As he pulled the covers over me and tucked them snug around my sides, he looked into my eyes with that quiet, steady love he’s always had.
He smiled softly and whispered, “This is one of the most intimate things we’ve ever done together… and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I burst into tears — not from pain or embarrassment, but from overwhelming gratitude and love. In that moment, I realized true partnership isn’t just the romantic highs; it’s the raw, unglamorous lows where someone chooses to show up fully, without judgment, and still sees you as beautiful.
He kissed my forehead, turned off the light, and climbed in beside me. I fell asleep feeling safe, cherished, and deeply connected.
Years later, we still laugh about the “toilet era,” but that whisper stays with me. It’s proof that real love shows up in the messiest moments and makes them sacred.
To every partner out there caring for someone postpartum (or in any hard season): your quiet acts of service matter more than you know. And to every new mom feeling broken and vulnerable: you are still worthy of being carried, literally and figuratively.
