I married you because you are economical.

And now you are lying down and whining. I'm tired after work, and there is neither dinner nor an order at home."Are you exhausted after a cesarean? Who is going to make the traditional dish?" — he wasn't joking. He didn't see the difference between a surgical operation and 'just childbirth'.I hear this too often in conversations, read it on forums, see it in comments: a man who believes that after a cesarean, a woman is obligated to get up and turn back into a housekeeping machine immediately. He doesn’t feel cruel. He feels... deceived. After all, he married a 'convenient' woman. The one who is always smiling, with dinner, and in a good mood. And what he got is — a woman. A real one. With fatigue, pain, fears, and a scar from the operation. And he doesn’t know what to do with this. Because such women were not shown in his favorite movies about 'the perfect family'.Instead of a warm blanket on her shoulders, she often hears: 'What have you been doing all day?', as if she just lay on the couch with a book. In modern...

Instead of a warm blanket on her shoulders, she often gets asked:

What did you do all day?" as if she lay on the couch with a book. In the modern world of beautiful maternity hospitals and expensive strollers, we somehow still forget the main thing: a woman after childbirth — especially after a cesarean — is not support staff, but a person who needs as much help as the child. The story of Victoria, which I will share, is no exception. She is a mirror of how subtly a woman after childbirth ends up on the sidelines, not only of medicine but also of her marriage.

It all started, it would seem, according to the classic scenario:

Love, marriage, and the expectation of a child. Victoria worked right up until the delivery to have something to live on. He also worked, building his career. When the doctor at the scheduled check-up announced, "You will need a cesarean," she was not scared — she knew everything would be fine, as long as the child was healthy. But she did not expect that the most challenging part after childbirth would not be recovering from the surgery, but the fact that a loved one suddenly starts to distance themselves.

The first days at home were a blur:

Sleepless nights, stitches, the inability to sit, and pain with every movement. The baby woke up every two hours. Victoria struggled to get up, feed, and put the baby to bed. Her mother came to help for a week, but then she left. And Victoria was left alone. Or rather, with a newborn — and with a husband who increasingly began to say, 'You're at home all day, why isn't it cleaned?' He said he was working. He was tired. He deserved peace and dish. 'You knew that giving birth is hard,' he said, as if that were an argument. 'Why did you even agree to this?' Victoria didn't know how to respond. Yes, she knew. But she thought her husband would be there, so that he would understand. If she couldn't cook soup, he would get food from the fridge and stroke her head, instead of throwing insults like, 'I took you for your domestic skills, and now you're just a whiner.' This is the moment when a woman becomes 'inconvenient.'

As long as she is beautiful, smiles, cleans, cooks, and laughs at his jokes, everything is fine. But as soon as she gets sick, exhausted, becomes real — with fatigue, tears, a broken body, and fears — the man gets scared. He doesn't know how to live with such a woman. He doesn’t want to see 'this.' He wants his 'comfortable' wife back, not a woman who has undergone surgery and is living with a newborn. There are many men like that. And it’s not about anger or cruelty. It’s about inner infantilism, where a person wants to receive comfort but doesn't want to pay for it with care. He believes that a man should earn money, and a woman should serve.

After a cesarean, women need to recuperate.

Well, it’s just a stitch. 'My mother gave birth in the field,' he says. The truth is, if you ask his mother directly, she remembers that day with tears and says, 'If only a cesarean could have been done then — I would have begged the doctors.' A cesarean section is not 'didn't give birth,' as some write online. It is a surgical operation that involves cutting through several layers of tissue, including the uterus. It's anesthesia, stitches, risk of infection, and a long rehabilitation period. It involves constant pain. After a woman has rested, she needs calm and medical care.

But she gets: What have you been doing all day?"

When a woman feels that her condition is devalued, it doesn't just lead to a rupture — it leads to a deafening loneliness. At first, she stays silent, endures, and justifies. Then she starts to get angry. And if this anger isn't voiced, it turns into disgust. And from disgust, it is just one step to indifference. And when indifference sets in, nothing can be saved anymore. This is what happened with Victoria. She increasingly caught herself thinking: "I don't care whether he comes home or not." It was terrifying — but honest. Six months after giving birth, they started sleeping in different rooms. Then he began to stay late at work. Then he started going away for the weekends to "friends." Victoria remained silent. She had no strength. At one point, he said outright: "I didn't sign up for this." What he meant by "this," he did not specify.

But the essence was clear:

He wanted a wife, but got a woman with a child, with stitches, with fatigue, and without time for a manicure. A year later, she packed her things and left. Not with screams, not with a scandal. She just left. To her mom's. Then, to a rented apartment. She got a remote job. Gradually, she recovered. After two years, she met another man, not perfect, not rich. But one who, in the first days of their child’s illness, said: "Sit, I’ll heat it and feed him myself." She cried then, from surprise.

Victoria's story is not just about one divorce. It's about how men often confuse love with convenience. As long as a woman fulfills her expected role, she is good. But as soon as she becomes alive, weak, and in need of help, she becomes "not the same." I want to say to those who think that "a wife is about dish, comfort, and sex," that one day you may find yourself in silence, with a pot on the stove, but without a living person beside you. Because your wife is not a device that turns on at the push of a button, and not a being obliged to please, serve, and thank you for the very fact of marriage.

She is a person.

With a body that hurts after childbirth. With a soul that requires warmth. With a heart that will one day tire. One day, she will get tired of waiting. If men continue to think that a cesarean section is an "excuse" rather than a surgery, they will lose. Gradually. Through coldness. Through silence. Through indifference. And then they will sit on forums and ask: "Why are women so ungrateful?" The thing is that they were not there at the right moment. They didn't buy soup. They didn't help her to stand up. They didn't say: "I am with you." A woman is not just for a dish. She is for life. If you haven't understood this, don't be surprised when she chooses to live without you.