My Husband Told Me He Couldn't Be Married Anymore – So I Made A Decision I've Kept Secret For 12 Years

<div><img src="https://img.huffingtonpost.com/asset/663d2d302200001a00d7c291.jpeg?ops=scalefit_630_noupscale" alt="The author after surgery in 2011." data-caption="The author after surgery in 2011." data-credit-link-back="" data-credit="Courtesy Of Tamara MC" />The author after surgery in 2011.</div><div class="content-list-component text"><p><span style="font-weight:400">In 2010, after a 17-year marriage, my husband asked for a divorce, saying he couldn’t be married anymore. </span></p><p><span style="font-weight:400">We had two sons, 14 and 16, not quite two years apart, whom I had nursed over four years straight. My once-perky breasts weren’t the same after. Whose are? They weren’t <em>terrible</em>, just more deflated, like a helium balloon the day after a birthday party.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight:400">I used to joke with my husband that I was planning to have breast surgery when I finished nursing. We had laughed hysterically about my desire for surgery because we both knew I was terrified of hospitals and drugs. I was an <em>au naturel </em></span><span style="font-weight:400">granola girl who hadn’t even had caffeine until her mid-30s. I never smoked a cigarette or tried an illegal substance either. Only when I have a migraine do I hesitantly swallow an Advil.</span></p><p><span style="font-weight:400">But after my husband asked for a divorce, something inside of me shifted. If I was going back on the market, I needed my before-childbirth body back. Before kids, my breasts were always my standout feature. Not that I showed them off, because I was horribly shy, but because of my petite frame, people couldn’t help but notice my chest. I wasn’t even 5 feet tall, and I was just over 100 pounds, but I h