Relationships are NEVER 50/50, especially after Baby makes three

Relationships and families experience their highest levels of distress with either the loss OR gain of a member. Despite knowing the statistics and all the potential problems we might face from the perspective of a Marriage and Family Therapist, and taking all the possible precautions I could possibly think of, this still rang true for my own marriage with the addition of our baby. We strategized and talked at length about preserving our relationship over everything else.  But a baby rocks your world in ways that no one can prepare you for.

 

 

Just a couple weeks into parenthood, after many sleepless nights and irritated spats at one another for not carrying enough weight in our partnership, an exhausted Tony came to me with a look of defeat on his face.  “You’re so good at this.  It all comes so naturally to you.” It was a cry for help in the way that he knew best—using his preferred Love Language, Words of Affirmation.  Resentment had already settled in though, so rather than reassuring him that he was doing his best, my first thought was, “If you had read the books I had asked you to before she came, maybe you’d know what to do.” I was exhausted too.  And overwhelmed.  But I was in bliss while he was in frantic survival mode.  He was right, it was all coming naturally to me.  I couldn’t possibly do it all on my own, though.  I still needed him.  I was proud that despite underlying bitterness, we were talking before things got out of control, just as we had planned.  In spite of it being my greatest weakness, we agreed that I would have to find the strength to ask for his help—in detail and often. 

 

 

He only had a few days off work, leaving me alone with Adelyn only a week in.  He’d come home and “I NEED HELP!” would be the first words he’d hear. Please hold her. Please change her. Please, I just need a moment to myself. 

 

 

I took off a mere three weeks to ensure I could still graduate on time, and before we knew it, I was back to work too.  I was trying to learn to pump on a schedule (it was DISASTEROUS) while still nursing her routinely.  We had agreed he should sleep nights since his work actually paid the bills and was full time, and I’d work afternoons and have extra time to nap during the day.  But so often at night, I’d wake up drenched in milk with a screaming baby. “I’m sorry to wake you babe, I need more help. I can’t do this on my own” He’d take her gladly every time, calming her, allowing me to clean up and sometimes even get a few extra minutes of sleep since the reality of napping during the day turned out to be pretty nonexistent. Days were spent trying to establish a routine, feeding her, changing her, bathing her, keeping the house clean and organized, and researching everything from sleep training to food introduction to vaccines and developmentally appropriate games—and then going to work for a few hours at night.  It was brutal, but temporary I told myself.

 

 

We found out only five months in that we were expecting again.  We were ecstatic!! Trying for Addie had taken so much longer, and the miscarriage just before her taught us the hard way that getting a healthy baby was not always easy.  But pregnancy and I do not agree.  I needed more help.  My body was fatigued, I was sick, and I could barely keep up with the schedule that we had finally found worked best for her.  I needed a nap. “I need more help!” I needed to run to puke. “I need help, babe!” I didn’t have the energy to even think about dinner. “I’m sorry, I need more help.”  He obliged every time, but I still felt small feelings of resentment for having to ask to begin with. Couldn’t he see how overwhelmed with everything I was??

 

 

I read an article about the emotional workload of motherhood.  And the extreme burden put onto mothers to run a household and excel in their jobs.  It highlighted that even delegating work was a full-time job in the corporate world yet we as mothers were expected to run our jobs and home life with ease.  I nodded knowingly as I took it in, acknowleding how much extra work I was doing for my family. But I was happy that per our discussion I at least knew how important it was to be carrying the burden for now.

 

 

Days kept turning to months, and I had become a master at asking for help.  We were doing great.  And he was such an amazing Dad, eventually catching on and anticipating mine and Addie’s needs before needing instructions.  The first time she was sick he was across the country on a work trip and surprised us both by coming home early.  “I could tell by the strain in your voice that you needed me and told my boss I needed to get home to my family”.  I cried that night not only with relief for the extra hands, but also knowing how lucky I was to have him.

 

We’re nearly a year in now and somehow, balancing our baby and this pregnancy has finally become normal and not nearly as overwhelming. Yet, the other night, Tony leaned over and wrapped his arm around me.  “We’re doing great, aren’t we? I think we’ve done such an amazing job as parents.” I looked at our toddling, giggling baby and beamed with pride, agreeing with him and commending him for his growth, assuming his compliment was a bid for approval.  But instead, his eyes changed as he continued, squeezing my hand in his. “But, I need to talk to you.  Because I really, really miss US.’

 

 

We had a long discussion that night about the weaknesses our marriage was facing–weaknesses that I, the professional, had been totally oblivious to.  Like a cheesy movie montage, the last eleven months flashed through my mind showing a totally different story than what I had been seeing, where I had told myself I was the hero.

 

 

“Do you want to cook dinner together babe? The baby’s sleeping, it’ll be romantic.”

 

 

“I’m so tired, she cried ALL day today. Can we just order in?” 

 

 

Him innocently snuggling up to me in bed and me turning gruffly away, drenched in hormonal pregnancy sweat, “NO! No we cannot cuddle. Scoot over, your body heat is just TOO MUCH!”

 

 

“Let’s get a sitter and have a night out together! We can dress up and feel like grown-ups again!”

 

 

“It’s too much money and nothing fits me! Can we just stay home?”

 

 

His wandering hands as I got out of the shower followed by “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen” and me slapping him away, scoffing at my fat, pregnant belly: “Don’t touch me. This is not my body, I hate it!”

 

 

It had so been easy to convince myself these last eleven months that I was taking on the load of supporting our family.  Yet I had been completely blind to that fact that during all that time he had taken on the load of supporting US. He had been doing everything in his power to keep our pre-baby promise: Our relationship should always remain the priority in our growing family before ANYTHING else.  I had gotten caught in the details, worrying about everything but. A relationship is a lot more than just not fighting; it’s about connecting.  He might not have said the words, but what I heard that night, crystal clear while being held in my husband’s arms was, “I need more help”.

 

 

Despite all our planning, strategizing, communicating, and the fact that I am a budding professional in families and relationships, having a baby totally threw us off and we are still working to find the right balance.  We’ve learned the hard way that relationships are never 50/50– but that is their strength, not their downfall.  Fortunately, we get to do it all over again in just three more months.  Tony will go into parenting Baby Jack with all the confidence and experience he didn’t have with Addie.  And I’ll be mindful to prioritize my husband rather than getting completely lost in the chaos of motherhood.  But we can still count on something else challenging us in ways we never expected and didn’t plan for, because that’s life.  I know that I am capable and able to carry us when needed, but I also know that he’ll be carrying me in ways I might not always see.

 

 

XOXO – Lindsey Paoli