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.
A designer dress I’d saved for months to buy, the one splurge I allowed myself before the baby.
“I just want one moment where I feel like me again,” I told him.
That told me everything.
“You always look great to me,” he said, kissing my forehead.
I wanted to believe him.
***
We arrived at the coastal rental by early afternoon.
The driveway was crowded with his siblings’ cars.
Diane, my MIL, stood on the porch like a queen inspecting her court.
“There she is,” she called, arms open. “Come here, honey.”
I wanted to believe him.
She hugged me, but her eyes did the real work.
They scanned me from hair to sandals in one slow, deliberate sweep.
“Well,” she said, patting my cheek. “Motherhood certainly keeps you busy, doesn’t it.”
“It does,” I said carefully. “Thank you for having us, Diane.”
“Of course. Family is everything.”
Dylan’s sister waved from the kitchen.
“Thank you for having us, Diane.”
His brother-in-law was already setting up a tripod on the deck, muttering about lighting and his “followers.”
“Big plans this week,” he announced. “Annual family photo. I’m doing the whole thing live on Instagram this year. Everybody always loves seeing our beach week.”
“Wonderful,” Diane beamed. “We’ll all look our best.”
Her gaze drifted back to me when she said it.
