My Husband Cheated 3 Weeks Postpartum Because Witnessing Birth “Traumatized” Him. He Sells Surgical Equipment For A Living. How Should I Handle His Big Presentation Tomorrow

Finding Strength

Jenny invites me to her book club meeting on a Thursday night. I almost say no because leaving the baby with a sitter still makes me nervous, but Jenny insists saying I need adult conversation that isn’t about custody schedules or divorce settlements. The book club meets at a cafe near Jenny’s house. Six women ranging from their 30s to their 50s sit around a table with wine and appetizers. They’re supposed to be discussing some mystery novel but within 10 minutes they’re asking me about Blake.

Jenny already told them the basic story. They want details about the presentation and the divorce. I find myself laughing while I describe Blake’s face when Jenny asked that question in front of 200 people. The women cheer and raise their glasses. Three of them are divorced, two never married. One is happily married to her second husband after leaving a guy who sounds remarkably like Blake. They celebrate my strategic takedown while also telling me it’s time to focus on moving forward. They invite me to join the club permanently. I say yes.

Blake picks up our daughter for his first overnight visit on a Saturday morning. I packed her diaper bag three times, checking and rechecking that he has everything: formula, diapers, wipes, her favorite stuffed animal, the sleep sack she needs for bedtime. Blake takes the bag and promises to text me updates. I watch him buckle her into the car seat and drive away. The house feels too quiet. I walk through the rooms not sure what to do with myself.

Then I remember I have a whole night and morning to myself. No feedings, no diaper changes, no baby monitor. I sign up for a painting class at the community center that starts next week. I find a postpartum fitness group that meets Tuesday mornings. I take a long shower without rushing. I order take out and watch a movie that isn’t a kids show. By the time Blake brings her back Sunday afternoon I feel more like myself than I have in months. Not just a wronged wife or an exhausted mother. Just me.

Savannah and I work through my feelings about my postpartum body over several therapy sessions. She has me stand in front of a mirror and describe what I see without using Blake’s words. At first all I can think about is his disgust—the stretching, the fluids, the smell. But Savannah pushes me to find my own words. I see a body that carried and delivered a healthy baby. I see strength in the softness. I see proof that I survived something difficult.

Savannah helps me understand that Blake’s reaction was about his own issues, not any actual problem with my body. He couldn’t handle the reality of childbirth because he’s shallow and selfish. My body accomplished something incredible. I’m healing, growing stronger, learning to appreciate what I did instead of seeing myself through Blake’s cruel lens.

Six months after the presentation I run into Megan at a coffee shop downtown. She’s in line ahead of me and clearly wants to avoid eye contact, but I’m done letting people like her make me feel small. I tap her shoulder and say hello. Megan turns around looking uncomfortable. She mumbles something about hoping I’m doing well.

I tell her I’m doing great actually. The divorce is final, I have primary custody, and I’m rebuilding my life. Then I add that she’s welcome to Blake if she wants him but I’m doing fine without either of them.

Megan’s face goes red. She admits she was wrong to participate in Blake’s cruelty. She says she’s ashamed of how she behaved during the affair. She thought she was special, that Blake genuinely cared about her, but he started making similar comments about her body a few months ago. Little remarks about her weight or her skin or how she looked in certain clothes. She realizes now that Blake’s problem is Blake, not the women in his life. He’ll always find something wrong because the issue is inside him.

I don’t forgive her but I do feel satisfied knowing she learned the truth about Blake firsthand. I wish her luck and leave with my coffee. Walking back to my car, I feel lighter than I have in months.