When we root out desires to be fitter or look better than other moms around us, we are free to celebrate and steward our bodies for their designed purpose—bringing glory to God.

The gospel gives us new eyes to appreciate the bodies God has given us, no matter what they look like or how they function.

While battling chronic illness can make it challenging to care for those who depend on us, we can depend on our Father whose strength is made perfect in weakness.

While a wife may assume that her body is less attractive to her husband after having children, this husband explains why the postpartum body is something to be treasured.

We may not be able to change some aspects of our postpartum bodies, but the gospel can change how we think about them and help us embrace intimacy with our husbands.

Editor’s Note: This article addresses struggles and tensions that can arise, even in otherwise "healthy" marriages. Its encouragements are best read with discernment and consideration of your unique situation. If abuse (physical, emotional, or sexual) or other illegal or illicit behavior is occurring in your marriage, please tell someone and reach out for counsel and/or professional intervention. 

There’s good news for our postpartum bodies—we can look to Christ, not the mirror, to see what really makes us beautiful.

The birth of our babies—especially our first—is supposed to be magical. We expect a quick rebound from what’s often the most physically challenging experience in our lives. Messages fired at us on television, through the internet, and on social media aim to convince us: once we embrace our child for the first time, we’ll float our way through bliss.

What if our stories are different?

My first encounter with childbirth, for example, left me feeling as if I’d been tossed into a furnace.
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I suffered, but I didn’t despair. Why not? I credit the hand of God. From the abundance of baby meals sent by friends and family, to the compassionate care of my OB, to the willingness of many to listen as I retold the story of my traumatic birth—I was cared for. The Lord met me in my furnace.

Through the fire, I had my clearest-yet view of Christ. I saw and felt his dedication to me. I learned to trust him not just day-by-day, but moment-to-moment. Postpartum depression slowed me down. I learned to savor the good moments.

Gaining and losing nearly 140 lbs. in the span of four years, well, that'll do a number on your body. 

After every baby, at about four weeks post-partum, I've looked longly at my pre-baby jeans and wondered why I ever thought I wasn't skinny enough. I looked at the width of the leg opening, the number on the tag and I prayed that, 1) someday I'd fit into them again, and 2) if I do, that I'd actually appreciate it and love my body for it.