Would she destroy my happy marriage?

I thought nothing could come between me and my hubby, until a new woman appeared on the scene

Jade Field, 31, Sleaford, Lincolnshire

Tugging at my size-28 dress, I frowned as it strained over my bulging belly.

Sighing, I plastered on a smile and headed out the door.

Nothing was going to stop me enjoying a night out with my new fella Darren, 36.

Especially not my 25st frame.

It was May 2008, I was 21 and smitten with my charming older man.

‘I think he’s way out of my league,’ I told my friends as we started going steady.

Still, he seemed to like the way I looked, curves and all.

And when Darren proposed six months after we got together, I was ecstatic.

Within a year, we were married. We were so happy. But one thing was missing from our lives.

‘Can we try for a baby?’ I asked Darren in September 2010.

He agreed. Neither of us could wait to be parents.

But every month brought a negative pregnancy test.

Heartbreaking.

In January 2013, my doctor told me some home truths.

‘Your size could be stopping you from conceiving,’ he said.

I’d known for years I was overweight, but it only normally bothered me when I struggled to find nice clothes that fitted.

But being told my weight was stopping me from becoming a mum was devastating. ‘I need to lose some weight,’ I told Darren that night. But despite trying every diet under the sun, anything I lost I’d pile back on again. I decided it was time to take drastic measures. So my GP put me on a waiting list for a gastric bypass, where surgeons block off your stomach and create a small pouch for food to go into. It basically meant I wouldn’t be able to eat very much. ‘You’ll lose weight very quickly,’ my doctor said. ‘Go for it,’ Darren encouraged me. In order for the NHS to approve the surgery, I had to lose

some weight by myself first, so I joined Weight Watchers and shed 5st in six months.

I still needed a permanent solution, though. I’d always piled any weight loss back on, so I was determined to go ahead with the surgery.

We had to attend regular support groups leading up to the op, too.

‘Many couples struggle with the weight loss and even split up after the surgery,’ a counsellor warned during

one of the sessions.

‘At least that’s something I don’t have to worry about,’ I said, grabbing Darren’s hand.

Our marriage was perfect, I knew nothing could come between us.

‘I’m not going to change,’ I told Darren.

In August 2013, weighing 19st, I checked into Derby Hospital for the four-hour op.

‘I’m right here,’ Darren whispered as I was wheeled down to theatre.

In the weeks that followed, Darren was my rock.

I couldn’t eat solids to begin with so he’d make me juices, then mash up tiny portions of food.

Just like the doctor said, the weight dropped off.

By the following summer, I was slipping into size-14 dresses. I loved my new figure. Tottering around in high heels, skinny jeans and skimpy tops, I felt good about the way I looked for the first time in my life. But Darren didn’t share my enthusiasm. ‘Are you going to wear that?’ he snapped as I pulled out a slinky summer frock from the wardrobe. I was taken aback. Darren had always loved my dress sense, but suddenly he seemed to hate everything I wore. My new work outfits were a far cry from my old elasticated trousers and frilly tops, but I felt great.

Why can’t Darren just be happy for me?

Soon we were arguing a lot, about my clothes, about how often I was going out. ‘You’re not the person I married,’ he boomed one night. I was furious, and hurt. After losing 13st, I was confident, sexy, loving life. I wanted to celebrate my new figure, but Darren just couldn’t – or wouldn’t – enjoy it with me. ‘I preferred you before,’ he announced flatly one night. I was crushed. I’d had the bypass to improve our marriage and hopefully give us our dream family – but now it was ripping us apart. But the truth was, it was little wonder Darren felt like a new woman had appeared on the scene. I felt different inside and out. I’d never had attention from men before, so when I got wolf-whistled in the street, my confidence soared. Best of all, I was doing things I’d never dreamed of before – bike rides, going to the gym, meeting new friends, dancing the night away. ‘I’m finally living the life I always wanted,’ I tried to explain to Darren. ‘You’re just a massive flirt,’ he frowned, angry and upset. I put our baby dreams on hold. I knew I couldn’t bring a child into this.

Had the counsellor at the support group been right?

Is our marriage over? Then one night in May 2015, I went to pick Darren up from work.

‘Wow,’ one of his colleagues exclaimed. ‘You’ve got a brand new wife!’

Wearing a black, tight-fitting jumpsuit, I’d put my hair up and done my make-up.

I worried Darren would get jealous and grumpy.

But suddenly, he looked at me with fresh eyes.

‘You do look great,’ he said in the car. My heart soared. We’d been bickering for so long because of my bypass – but, in that moment, we decided we couldn’t throw our marriage away.

‘I do love you no matter what,’ Darren insisted.

We decided to work through things, enjoy a fresh start. Sadly, I haven’t fallen pregnant yet, but our marriage is back on track.

Sometimes, Darren still complains if I wear something he doesn’t like.

There will always be three of us in our marriage – Darren, the old Jade and me now.

But both of us love Darren to bits and always will.

Suddenly he seemed to hate everything I wore