Your Husband/Partner doesn’t Know

My husband loves me and our daughter deeply. I know this, and he shows us in his own love language every day. Sometimes, my emotions overwhelm me and surge up like a tidal wave, hiding his beautiful love from me.

I lash out, let my crazy loose, yell, and try not to say anything hurtful. I’d be lying if I told you I was perfect at that.. but he takes it. Sometimes, his defenses come up, too, and we hit a stalemate. Neither of us is willing to yield. Today, I wasn’t my best self.

My baby woke me at 5:30 am with a fierce hunger after sleeping for almost 9 hours straight. I stumbled half asleep with her in my arms into… a dark nursery. Why is my nightlight off? My husband had been questioning me about its power use just last night. Did he really shut my 4-watt light off!?

I fed my baby, changed her diaper, and tucked her back in bed. Though I myself was still tired, my brain rattled on about how angry I was at my husband. It totally ignored how sweet he was reading her a bedtime story while I was able to shower and shave. Allowing me a moment for myself. I laid there for an hour stewing instead.

He got up before me, made his coffee, and stretched. And still, I lay there thinking about all of the things that had gotten on my nerves. I had to get up and move, so I started my teapot before heading to the downstairs bathroom (note: this toilet is older and uses more water.) He was still getting ready in the upstairs one. Back in the kitchen preparing my tea, he comes around the corner and says, “What did you do that there’s no water pressure?”

Somewhere among the dirty bottles, dished on the drying rack, and baby books not tucked neatly back on the shelf – I lost myself and fell into the overwhelming feeling of motherhood. I blamed my partner for not seeing my needs and acting accordingly. I yelled about the nightlight being off and me almost tripping over an empty diaper box he had moved into my path last night.

How could his own defense system not jump in to save him? He had no warning. Didn’t know I had been stewing for the last hour and a half, trying to relax my fraying nerves. I didn’t want to hear him defend himself. Subconsciously, I just wanted him to hear my needs beneath my frustration. But it never comes out that way. I tried to talk to explain, but anger has taken control and my voice is still raised. He’s not hearing me. So I took my tea into our bedroom where our daughter is still asleep, knowing he won’t follow and I can end this conversation.

As she begins to stir, I know she’ll be waking soon to eat again and be up for a couple of hours. I heard him go outside, so I slipped from the bedroom after quietly dressing. I start the bottle warmer and make my way to the bathroom for deodorant and to brush my teeth. He makes it back inside and upstairs. He hears her making noise. He gently goes in to greet her for the morning, unswaddles her, and carries her into the kitchen talking softly as she smiles up at him. He meets me in the kitchen as I take the bottle out of the warmer.

I’m still trying to knit my emotions back together, but he’s become cheerful and is trying to help. Somehow, this still annoys me slightly that he can correct himself so much faster than I can. How dare he? Then, Why can’t I also just cheer up at the sight of my smiling family!? But I try even though I don’t feel it.

While the bottle cools slightly from the heat of the warmer, he turns her into his chest, and she lets out a burp.. followed by a decent amount of baby vomit down his shirt. I grab the burp rag and take her handing it to him. I carry her into the living room to give her the bottle as he walks in with the burp rag.

He holds it out to me as he asks where I have the other ones. I just got that one out. There’s hardly any spit up on it. I’ll get a clean one after she burps from this feeding. And, why does he still not know where the burp rags are and can’t see the clean laundry basket sitting on the crib that I CLEARLY didn’t get to folding? I take the rag and dab the small amount of milk under her lip from her burp in the kitchen, as he says, “I used that on the floor!”

What little bit of emotional knitting I’ve done is ripped apart as my anger rises up. “Why did you use it on the floor?” Instead of a paper towel, duh! And why the heck were you holding this rag to me that you rubbed on the floor!?

I turned to feed our daughter, ignoring his question of where to get another one. This isn’t our first week home after all. He should know better. And I’m aware of how close I am to losing all control.

He returns with a hand towel- mental eye roll that he couldn’t find the clean burp rag in the 1 second he looked for them. But he brought me something, so I swallowed that comment. It’s not good for either of us for me to day it. But he wants to talk about the nightlight and crap, I just can’t hold it anymore.

My responses are yelled, angry tears almost boiling to the surface. I know my words are fueled by pure frustration. Not necessarily because of him, either. I know I’m tired, emotionally spent from taking care of my tiny dictator all day, being unable to fill my baby’s tummy with breast milk, my dog also needing my love and care, the dishes needing constantly washed, the floor needs a good scrub since coming home from the hospital 2.5 months ago, my clothes fitting differently, my body being constantly sore somewhere, thinking about the stress of going back to work in a couple of weeks, me trying not to lean too heavily on my also-stressed partner (or really anyone) with all of these things, and SO much more.

He tries to say things that will “fix” how I’m feeling right now: angry. He suggests I leave him with the baby and go do something for myself. I sarcastically reply with, “So I can come home to you stressed out, too? No.” This continues until she’s done eating, and I stand to change her out of her spit-up pajamas.

He follows, and I try to ignore that his presence standing over me watching isn’t annoying me, either. I change her but can’t even enjoy her happy smiles and coos. He tells me she needs to be dressed to go outside because he promised her he’d show her the crick. He’s still trying to be sweet and loving, though he’s still a little prickly, too. I melt a little inside at him, wanting to share his enjoyment with her.

I can’t speak because I know my words won’t be kind. I finish by putting a sweater on her and holding her up for him to take over. He happily accepts and walks from the room, turning his attention to her and her joy. I grab her laundry hamper and start a load as he carries her outside.

Bringing the hamper back into the nursery, I feel the emotions bubbling from my chest. Nothing looks better to me than the rocking chair right now. I grab the small pillow and clutch it to my chest. As I collapse into the chair sideways with my right side leaning against the back, tears brim.

I can’t hold anything anymore as I wale into the pillow. I cry ugly tears, letting all of my frustration, anger, and sadness flow. My nose runs, and I can feel the pillow I’m clutching is wet from both. I have no idea how long my hurt poured out as I sad there curled up.

Every time I thought if how I’d spoken to my husband, I cried. Every time I thought of how sweet he is with our daughter, I cried. And when I had the thought that I don’t want to cause us to break, I had a fresh wave of tears roll through me.

I know my eyes were swollen and red. My nose had to be red, too. My headache and jawache began to throb from my emotional release. But, I was beginning to feel better. I was grateful my husband left the house with our daughter so I could have this freedom to wallow in my emotions for a while, to break.

Sometimes, I just need to break. It doesn’t make me weak. It allows me to be strong. By releasing emotions, I can make room within myself to feel the joy and love my husband and daughter have to offer. I know my husband knows this, and that’s why he was able to be cheerful. That’s why he took her away from me so I could be alone. And that’s okay.

This is a real raw story. All for me to tell you that it’s okay to feel, Mama. In fact, I encourage you to do more crying so you don’t have to break in moments like this. I wish for you that all the beauty and love in your life can be felt with your whole heart.