Why do you love me?

The dreaded words that no husband wants to hear. No one likes being on the spot and state why they do what they do, yet here I am asking it of him.

Why do you love me? – I asked out of the blue one day while pulling my tangled wet locks out of my face.

Why do you love me? – When I grip on the extra fat at my midsection that is over an inch.

Why do you love me? – I ask while tears coat my eyes, struggling to escape and leak my anxiousness all down my face.

Thankfully my husband smiles during my constant questions and tells me that it's because I'm me. I mean, I don't understand it, but I accept that he is his reason – and that should be enough.

But is it?

We all get nervous in our relationships.

I know from speaking to other friends and family that sometimes there is just something there – unspoken between the two of you, and you can't quite put a reason behind it.

I know that when I'm in a depressed mood or overly anxious, I ask this of him from time to time. Like always, he shrugs it off and assures me it's for this reason, but this time he just knew I needed more.

Why do you love me? I say while I'm disgusted by my body at the moment. At the same time, it continues to lug along more weight (pandemic hasn't been very kind to me) to the point where my knees are starting to hurt. I make mental notes of this all while asking this same question repeatedly to my husband.

It was here that I finally started to think of this body as a learning experience. I needed to work on myself first before accepting whatever answer my husband gives.

Remembering to be kind to me.

This body went through a loss earlier. This time two years ago, we had a miscarriage and had to have an operation to clear it from my body. It was the worse moment of my life – because I felt then that I failed my husband. (Messed up as that was.)

This body of mine expanded while growing a human and went through almost 13 hours of labor with not one but two epidurals. Then ended in a c-section with an accidental tear from the doctors attempting to get my daughter out – I will now have always to have a c-section – which, to be honest, wasn't all that bad.

This body of mine produced milk for my daughter for four weeks before illness took my husband, and I had to stop it for my mental health. My hubs got a stomach bug in March. Near the lockdown started, and we were quarantined for two weeks away from our four-week-old daughter and me. That plus new mom and dogs wasn't a good thing at all.

This body deserves to be loved not just because it created life but because I am worthy of being loved.

How powerful those words are – I am worthy of being loved.

And In the end.

It doesn't matter why your partner loves you. They have chosen to stick out this thing called life and go to the ends of the Earth with you.

It is okay to flounder a bit, and perhaps the reason I have created this blog was simply because of this conversation I had with my husband. I found that I was required to love myself first before asking and understanding why my husband loves me.

If I can't love myself, then I'm never going to understand why anyone else would want to.