My husband nicknamed me a “scarecrow” after I had three babies and started cheating on me with his secretary. He assumed I was too weak to fight back. He was wrong. What occurred next made him pay a price he never dreamed he would have to pay, and it changed me into someone he would never know.
I thought I had found the person I would be with forever. The kind of guy that made life easy, brightened every place he stepped into, and promised to give me everything. Kael was like that and even more.
Over the course of eight years, we constructed a house together. Five of those occasions, they were married. And we fought infertility for what felt like forever, failing month after month, until I eventually got pregnant with triplets.
It was like a miracle to see three babies on the ultrasound screen. I could see happiness and fear on the doctor’s face as she told me the news, and I knew straight away what she meant as my body began to alter. This wasn’t just being pregnant. This was just about keeping alive from the start.
My ankles got as big as grapefruits. I couldn’t eat anything for weeks. By the sixth month, I had to stay in bed and watch my body change into something I didn’t recognize.
I didn’t think my skin could become any tighter. My face in the mirror looked weird—swollen, tired, and simply hanging there. But every kick, every move, and every night I couldn’t sleep made me understand why it was happening.
I held Cove, Briar, and Arden when they eventually got there. They were small, perfect, and wailing. I thought, “This is it.” This is love.
At first, Kael was happy. He put images online, got praise at work, and loved being a dad to triplets. People spoke nice things about him for being a strong rock and a faithful husband. I felt like a car had hit me and put me back together horribly while I was in the hospital bed, stitched up, and swollen.
He said, “You were great, honey,” and held my hand. “You are great.”
I trusted him. I believed every word you said.
I was going down three weeks after I got out. That’s the only word that fits. Drowning in diapers, bottles, and cries that never cease. My body was still in pain, recuperating, and bleeding.
I wore the same two pairs of loose sweatpants because nothing else fit. I didn’t have time to wash my hair, so it stayed in a messy knot. I had forgotten how useful my sleep was.
That morning, I sat on the couch and fed Cove as Briar slept next to me in her crib. Arden stopped howling after 40 minutes of nonstop noise. There was spit on my shirt. Because I was tired, my eyes stung.
I was trying to recall if I had eaten that day when Kael walked in. He was wearing a nice blue suit for work and smelled like that expensive cologne I used to appreciate.
He stopped at the entrance, looked me up and down, and his nose twitched a little. “You look like a scarecrow.”
We kept the phrase. For a moment, I believed I had heard wrong.
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged and drank some coffee, as if to say, “I get it.” “I mean, you’ve really gone down. I realize you just had kids, but come on, Avelyn. You may try brushing your hair. You appear like a scarecrow that is alive, breathing, and moving.
My throat got dry and my hands shook a little as I moved Cove. “Kael, I had three kids. I hardly ever get to go to the bathroom, let alone…
He said, “Calm down,” in a low voice, and then he chuckled that breezy, dismissive laugh that I was starting to loathe. “It’s only a joke.” Lately, you’ve been overly sensitive.
He took his briefcase and left, leaving me alone with our son in my lap and tears in my eyes. Still, I held back my emotions. I couldn’t understand it because I was too hurt, shocked, and tired.
But that wasn’t the end. That was only the start.
The remarks kept flooding in for the next few weeks. Little digs that seem like fun or caring. “When will you get your body back?” Kael asked me one night when I was putting away small clothing.
“Maybe you should try yoga,” he commented at one point, glancing at my stomach after I had given birth.
“Man, I miss how you used to look,” he whispered once, so gently that I almost didn’t hear it.
If I lifted my shirt to nurse, the guy who used to kiss my pregnant belly all over would shake. He couldn’t look at me without feeling horrible, like I had let him down by not snapping back right away.
I stopped looking in mirrors completely. Not because of how I looked, but because I hated seeing what he saw: someone who wasn’t good enough anymore.
“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” One night, when he said something harsh about how I looked again, I asked him.
“What? I’m just being honest. You always wanted our marriage to be honest.
“Kael, the truth isn’t mean.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting.” I’m only asking you to take care of yourself again.
Months went by very slowly. Kael began to work late, text less, and get home after the babies had gone to bed.
When I questioned him why he wasn’t there, he would answer, “I need space.” “Isn’t it too much?” Three little ones. “I need a break.”
In the meantime, I got further into bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights that evolved into lengthy days. My body hurt all the time, but my heart hurt even more. The man I married became a cold, aloof, and rude person.
That night changed everything.
I had just put the babies to bed after a long night of cleaning when I saw his phone flashing on the counter in the kitchen. I usually wouldn’t peek because Kael was in the shower. I had never been the type of person to snoop.
But there was something that made me want to grasp it.
The words on the television made me feel sick:
“You deserve a guy who takes care of himself, not a mom who is messy.”
Selina was the name, and there was a lipstick emblem next to it. His helper. He had seen the woman a few times before, but just in a casual fashion and with no bad intentions.
I was shaking as I gazed at the television. I could hear the water flowing in the shower above. Briar began to move around in the nursery. But I only paid attention to that text.
I didn’t face my hubby then. I felt a severe pain in my stomach that I had never felt before. Kael was too confident and too pompous. He didn’t lock his phone since he figured I wouldn’t check. I opened it by sliding it.
The conversations with Selina had been going on for months and were full of taunting comments, complaints about me, and pictures that made me sick to look at. I felt ill to my stomach as I scrolled, but I had to keep on.
I used his phone to check my email and forwarded myself every chat. Text captures. I wrote down all of the calls I made. All of it. After that, I deleted the email he sent, emptied the trash, and put the device back where I found it.
I was still nursing Arden when he came down 20 minutes later, with wet hair.
He fetched a bottle from the fridge and asked, “Is everything okay?”
I responded, “Okay,” and looked down. “Everything is fine.”
In the weeks that followed, I became a stranger to myself, but this time it was a good thing. I joined a group for new moms where other moms understood what I was going through. My mom came over to take care of the babies so I could sleep.
I began taking morning walks, initially for 15 minutes, then for 30 minutes, and then for an hour. It was quiet in the cool air, which allowed me time to reflect.
I started painting again after not doing it since before the wedding. My fingers remembered how to make strokes and how to mix colors to tell stories. I put some online and sold them right away. It wasn’t about the money. It was about getting back what was mine.
Kael, on the other hand, became more and more haughty. He felt I was too shattered, tired, and dependent on him to notice when he was late and made excuses. He was sure he would win.
He didn’t know what was going to happen.
One night, I set the table with his favorite food: lasagna, garlic bread, and red wine. I put on a fresh shirt and lighted some candles. He looked astonished when he got there and realized what was going on.
“What is this?”
“I wanted to toast,” I said with a smile. “Us going back to normal.”
He seemed happy to be settling in. We had food and drinks. He talked about how great his job was, how great his new “crew” was, and how well things were going. I nodded, asked questions, and did what a good wife would do.
I laid my fork down and said, “Kael.” “Do you remember when you called me a scarecrow?”
His smile went away. “Oh, come on. You aren’t thinking about it…
“No,” I answered as I stood up slowly. “I’m not mad. Thanks a lot. You were right on the money.
“What’s that?”
I opened the drawer, pulled out a hefty envelope, and put it on the table in front of him. He looked at it and then at me.
“Open.”
He shook his fingers a little as he pulled out the printed text messages, photographs, and teasing messages between him and Selina. His face went pale.
“Avelyn, I… this isn’t what it looks like…”
“It’s just how it looks.”
I pulled out another stack from the drawer. I said, “Papers for divorce.” “Your signature is already on file for the house.” I took care of it before we became pregnant and refinanced. People sign things without reading them, which is unusual. And who will be the main caretaker and have sole custody while you’re away?
His mouth dropped open. “You can’t.”
“I did.”
“Hold on, Avelyn.” I messed up. I was stupid. “I never meant to…”
“I fixed it; you were never supposed to know.” “A big difference.”
I took my keys and headed to the nursery. I heard him get up and move the chair around on the floor.
“Where to?”
I said, “To kiss my babies goodnight,” with my back to them. “Then I’ll sleep better than I have in months.”
The fallout happened at the right time. Selina left Kael after she found he wasn’t the perfect parent she thought he was. Someone (who will remain nameless) told HR about the bad things he said at work, which hurt his reputation.
He went to a little apartment across town after the divorce. He sent money for the kids and came to see them every other week if I let him.
At the same time, a surprise grew. People saw my online art posts, which were simply for fun.
“The Scarecrow Mom” was a piece of art that went popular on the internet. There was a woman made of sewed cloth and straw holding three bright hearts to her chest. People thought it was odd, pretty, and real.
I got a call from a gallery nearby. They wanted to show off my work at a private event.
On the first night, I stood there in a simple black dress with my hair properly groomed and a real grin on my face for the first time in years. My mom stayed home with the triplets, who were OK. Before I left, I had been breastfeeding, which I loved very much, and I promised them I would be back soon.
There were a lot of people in the gallery. People I didn’t know told me how my art made them feel, and they saw their own feelings in the braided linen and exhausted look of my scarecrow mom. I sold items, made friends, and had a full life.
In the middle of the event, I saw Kael by the door. He seemed tiny.
He moved closer carefully, with his hands in his pockets. “Avelyn. You look great.
I said “thank you” in a kind way. “I followed your advice.” I brushed my hair.
He tried to laugh, but it didn’t work. His eyes sparkled. “I’m sorry.” For everything. I was rude. You didn’t deserve any.
I said softly, “No.” “I didn’t.” But I deserved more. And now I have it.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. He nodded and then went a few minutes later, blending in with the crowd and leaving my existence.
I stayed alone in front of “The Scarecrow Mom” after the guests left and the store closed that night. The lights made the paint glow, which made the sewed figure look like it was breathing.
I remembered Kael remarking, “You look like a scarecrow” that day. Words that make me feel small, useless, and that I’ve run out of energy.
But scarecrows don’t fall apart. They preserve fields for what matters, stand up to any storm, and sway in heavy gusts. And they do it without asking for praise, approval, or anyone else’s help.
Sometimes the greatest way to get back at someone is to not get mad or break stuff. It’s piecing yourself back together until the people who made you feel little don’t know you anymore. People think you’re going to fall, but you’re actually moving up. And it’s about finding beauty in damaged things and turning pain into creativity.
It was a cool night, and as I walked home to my babies, I muttered to myself, “You were right, Kael.” I am a strong person. And even if the wind is really fierce, I’ll stand tall.
If someone has put you down and promised to lift you up, you are not their words. You are the person you want to be. And sometimes the breaker gives you just what you need to make you stronger than you were before.
