Katie🤍

postpartum hits way harder than you expected.

physically. emotionally. mentally. everything.

not because you don't love maggie. oh god, you love her so much it hurts.

but your body doesn't feel like yours anymore.

nothing fits right.

you're exhausted all the time.

your emotions are all over the place.

and every time you look in the mirror, all you see are the changes. plus the fact that your hair is constantly in a bun, because honestly who has the energy?

meanwhile gator is genuinely completely oblivious at first.

not because he doesn't care, but because when he looks at you he still sees the same girl.

the girl he fell in love with, only now you’re holding your daughter, which somehow makes him love you even more.

so the idea that you don't see yourself that way anymore doesn't even occur to him.

until one afternoon you finally snap.

you've been wearing the same oversized sweatshirt for days, and you're standing in front of the mirror, trying on an old pair of jeans.

they won't button. not even close.

and that's somehow the thing that breaks you.

after everything, it's the stupid jeans.

suddenly you're crying, sitting on the bathroom floor, holding the jeans.

and of course, that’s when gator walks in.

who, of course, immediately panics. 

because there are tears, and tears automatically equal emergency.

"baby? what happened?" "my jeans don't fit"

gator pauses, trying so hard to figure out the correct answer.

eventually: "buy bigger jeans?"

wrong answer. horrible answer. absolute worst possible answer.

you start crying harder, and now he's really panicking.

eventually he kneels in front of you, takes the jeans, just tosses them across the room.

"i hate them jeans anyway" "gator" "never liked 'em"

liar. complete liar.

but he's trying so hard.

eventually you whisper "i don't look the same"

and his heart shatters, because suddenly he realizes this has been happening for a while. you've just been hiding it.

and now he's kicking himself for not noticing sooner.

all this time he's been assuming you knew how he felt, that he still looked at you the same way, that he was still hopelessly in love with you.

apparently you don't, and that's his fault because he hasn't said it enough.

if at all.

and there really isn’t a better time than now.

"honey, you grew our little girl"

instant tears from both of you.

"hell, if anything i think you're prettier now"

and he’s completely serious.

because when he looks at the stretch marks, he sees maggie.

when he sees the changes, he sees everything you went through. 

everything you sacrificed and everything you survived to bring your daughter home.

and to him, that's the most beautiful thing in the world.

now, unfortunately, he's still gator.

so after this incredibly emotional moment, he follows it up with "plus your butt got bigger, and if ever found that as a bad thing, i’d want you to take that gun from the safe and shoot me"

now you're laughing through the tears, and he's grinning because he successfully made you smile.

after that, he works a bit harder.

he now knows you need reassurance and he desperately wants to give it to you. he just doesn't know how.

so his first attempts are...rough. very rough.

"you look nice" "nice?"

he immediately realizes he messed up.

because nice? that's what you say about curtains, not your girlfriend. not the mother of your baby.

"pretty" long pause. "real pretty"

he also becomes incredibly touchy.

not because he wants anything. no, quite the opposite. 

he just knows you're struggling, so he wants you to know he still reaches for you automatically.

hand on your back, hand on your knee, arm around your shoulders.

all day. constantly. like muscle memory.

one night you're sitting on the couch.

oversized shirt, messy hair, baby spit up on your shoulder, feeling particularly terrible about yourself.

and gator walks by, absentmindedly kisses your forehead, squeezes your shoulder, then keeps walking.

and somehow that means more than a thousand compliments.

then comes the doctor's appointment.

that appointment.

the one where you're finally cleared.

doctor says everything looks good, you're healthy, healed, congratulations.

meanwhile you're sitting there thinking: i haven't slept more than three consecutive hours in months, i'm wearing milk stains, i forgot to brush my hair yesterday. i would rather eat drywall than be romantic right now.

and honestly, gator isn't thinking about it much either, because he's tired too.

not as tired as you, but tired.

maggie mae is currently running both of your lives, and she's not even capable of holding her own head up consistently yet.

one evening you finally bring it up during one of maggie's midnight feedings.

because that's when all important conversations happen.

at two in the morning with a velcro baby latched to you.

you've been feeling guilty.

guilty for being tired. guilty for not wanting anything. 

and you quietly admit "i know i'm probably disappointing you"

silence.

gator thinks he misheard you.

"what?" "i just..."

more tears interrupt you.

"i'm tired all the time" "yeah" "and i'm not exactly..."

you pause to gesture vaguely at yourself.

"me"

the look on his face? devastated.

somehow you've convinced yourself he's disappointed.

"sweetheart, look at me"

he's looking at you like you're actively breaking his heart.

he doesn't think you realize how much you do, or that he notices and how much he appreciates you.

he reaches over and takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"you ain't gotta give me nothin'"

gator doesn't need “proof” you still love him.

he sees that every time you hand him maggie or you fall asleep on his shoulder or you save him the last biscuit at breakfast or you smile when he walks through the door.

right now, he just wants you resting and healing. letting him take care of you for once.

after that, things slowly get easier.

his hand finding yours again. forehead kisses. lingering hugs in the kitchen. him wrapping his arms around you while you're holding maggie. resting his chin on your shoulder.

"there's my girls"

every single time.

no matter how tired you are or how different you feel, gator still looks at you exactly the same way he always has.

like you hung the moon.

except now, you're holding a tiny little girl who has his eyes and your smile.

and that makes him love you even more.

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