Things were going smoothly for my husband, Dave, and me until I gave birth to our daughter, Marissa. Before she arrived, everything felt balanced. But after she was born, things changed in a way I didn’t expect. Dave started to believe that I wasn’t doing anything all day while he was at work. I was upset by this because I was working harder than ever, but he just didn’t see it.
When I found out I was pregnant, I made the decision to quit my job. I wanted to focus on being a mother and a wife. Dave supported this decision, and he thought it would be better for our baby in the long run. It seemed like the right choice at the time.
Thankfully, my pregnancy went smoothly. I didn’t have any major complications, and I could still move around a lot. I would go to the market to buy groceries, then come home and cook something for Dave. As the pregnancy progressed, I felt more and more energized. I started cleaning our house almost nonstop. I couldn’t stop myself; it felt like something I had to do.
One day, Dave looked around the house and smiled. “Our house has never looked this great, honey,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for keeping everything together for us.”
I felt proud. It was nice to hear that he appreciated all the effort I was putting in. I kept cleaning and organizing, doing everything I could to make our home perfect for when Marissa arrived. I wanted everything to be ready for her. Then, at 39 weeks, Marissa was born, and suddenly, she became my whole world. She needed me for everything. How could I possibly focus on anything else when I had a tiny human who relied on me for every little thing?
But to Dave, it didn’t seem like I was doing much. He began to complain about how messy the house was getting and how we were eating the same food every day. “You’ve got to do better than this,” he said, his frustration clear. “I don’t have time to cook something new every day,” I explained. “Marissa cries a lot, and she’s a colicky baby. She needs me constantly.”
Dave didn’t get it. He shook his head, thinking I was making excuses. “Marissa can stay in the crib while you take care of things around here,” he said. “It won’t take long.”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why don’t you try it, then?” I snapped. “I’m trying my best to be a great mom. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to breastfeed every two hours? And then, when I’m not feeding her, she’s crying because I put her down. I literally have NO time to do anything else!”
Dave looked at me, his eyes cold. “What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice sharp. “I work all day and come home to a messy house and food I have to reheat. I’ve had to eat the same leftovers more than once. How can I not be frustrated? Stop hiding behind the baby and just admit you’re being lazy.”
I felt a sting in my chest. My eyes welled up with tears, and I could feel my heart breaking. “That hurt,” I said quietly, turning to walk away to our room.
I couldn’t understand why he didn’t see how hard I was working. Yes, he brought in the money, but he was hardly ever home. And when he was, he didn’t help much with the baby. If I needed a quick shower or a few minutes to use the bathroom, that was the only time he’d step in.
That was when I realized that Dave would never truly understand what I was going through unless I showed him. He needed to see what it was like to care for Marissa and handle everything else, just like I had to every single day. So, one weekend, I decided to leave.
Marissa was asleep on Dave’s chest, so I knew this was my chance. I slipped downstairs and wrote him a note. It said: “I’m going on vacation and will return in a week. Marissa’s milk is in the fridge.” I turned off my phone, grabbed my bag, and left without a second thought. I booked myself a trip to the beach. I needed a break – something for myself, away from the constant demands of motherhood.
When Dave found my note, he was shocked and furious. I could almost hear the frustration in his voice as he read it aloud. “What is this?” he muttered. “She just…left?”
He was on his own for the weekend, and for the first time, he realized how difficult it was to care for a newborn. I watched as he struggled through changing diapers, feeding Marissa, giving her baths, and doing everything else she needed.
“I get it!” Dave yelled one afternoon. “Just come home already!” he begged, as if he couldn’t handle it anymore.
I could see everything from my baby monitors at home. From the way he was juggling everything, I could tell he was overwhelmed. He didn’t have time to do much else. The dishes piled up, and we had takeout every single day. He even called his mother in desperation.
“Mom!” he cried on the phone, sounding completely defeated. “Jamie left for a vacation with nothing but a note. I can’t do this! I haven’t slept in days!”
My mother-in-law was furious. “How can that woman be so irresponsible?” I heard her shout through the baby monitor. “It’s a woman’s job to raise her children, not a man’s! If she couldn’t handle the baby and the house, she shouldn’t have gotten married!”
I scoffed as I listened. She had nannies to raise her children. I didn’t have that luxury. Dave and I didn’t have the money for a nanny, and I was doing the best I could.
By the time I got back home, Dave was full of apologies. He had finally realized just how much I had been doing. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said with genuine regret in his voice. “I had no idea how much you were handling. I should’ve appreciated you more.”
“I get it now,” he continued, pulling me into a tight hug. “You go through so much every day, and I’ve been asking so much from you. I promise I’ll be a better partner. I’ll share the responsibilities with you from now on. You and Marissa deserve so much more than I’ve been giving.”
I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It felt good to know he finally understood.
Still, there was something that stuck with me – what my mother-in-law had said. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It bothered me that she thought I was being irresponsible. I wasn’t sure if I should just let it go, or if I should talk to people who had been through the same thing.
I asked myself: Should a woman be solely responsible for raising the children and keeping the house in order? Or should the responsibilities be shared equally between both spouses?