A Note to My Husband

Week four. 

To my husband:

I never fully anticipated the range of emotions I would go through after having our daughter. I saw you in a new light and felt truly loved for the first time in a long while. It's not that I didn't feel loved before our daughter arrived, but like most marriages, we had lost touch and had sunk into a mundane routine that was comfortable for both of us. When I went into labor, it was clear that you loved me. Perhaps for the first time, you saw me in pain and knew that I was sacrificing my body for something we had worked hard for. When she was born you willingly did anything for me from making me breakfast and bringing me Starbucks to reassuring me that I was doing a good job, especially with breastfeeding. Two weeks later, you returned to work and I set off on my own to keep our child alive while at the same time trying to maintain my own sanity. You sent me daily texts letting me know how much you appreciate me and asking me what you can do. While you worried at work about me and baby, I worried at home about you. I did everything I could so you didn't have to when you came home: laundry, dishes, you name it. Everyone had said "sleep when baby sleeps" but I didn't want to miss an opportunity to help you because you've been so helpful to us.

Now four weeks in, things are changing. We're exhausted and trying to navigate this parenting life as best as we can. You're fully immersed in your job and worried about how you can help once you get home after an exhausting day. I'm home on my own again after a rotating door of visitors have left. The lack of sleep has caught up to us both. You may not realize this, because I seem entirely focused on the baby, but in reality it's you I'm worried about. You no longer dote one me like you did three weeks ago and j suppose that's to be expected. Afterall, we cannot live in a fairytale moment forever. And while I understand this, the love I felt from you in that first week has since faded. Sleeping in separate rooms to make space for our little one weighs on me more than you realize. My body has changed in so many ways. And while I am proud of this body, I worry that you look at it in disgust. It certainly doesn't help that none of my clothes fit - my hips are too wide, my stomach too chubby and my boobs are too big. You must see the same thing because you haven't told me I'm beautiful in months and if you haven't said it, you must not believe it. The lack of intimacy is probably more difficult for me for this very reason. I feel responsible for our inability to connect. I have a tiny human who is reliant on me 16 hours out of the day and have a body that will take almost two months to heal and a year to look like my pre-pregnancy one.  Negative thoughts take over and I worry you'll want to be with someone else - someone who fits into her clothes, is less emotional, and sexier.

I'm sure you feel like you can do nothing right. You feel like you can't help and when you do, it's criticized. You'll worry about both me and the baby, but you won't know how to express it because you don't want to upset the fragile being that is your erratically emotional wife. Instead, you'll retreat to the known and try to grasp for any bit of normalcy - your weekend TV shows, taking out the trash, and trips to Home Depot. I'll secretly resent you while I'm stuck in the same spot on the couch for hours unable to use the bathroom or eat when I want wishing you could understand even the smallest amount of emotional instability I feel. Because while I'm the happiest I've ever been and so enamored with the human we created, I'm also wishing for our old life. The one where we could be spontaneous and care free. The one where I could unwind with a bottle of wine and a last minute massage. The life where I felt like you looked at me as more than just the woman who feeds your baby. I know you must be feeling some of these same. thoughts.  Perhaps you want your old life too - you want your wife to truly want you. To really need you. You want to focus on your job because your career is really important. You want talk about politics, sports, and stupid TV shows instead of diapers, breastfeeding and bed time routine. You (like me) want a sense of normalcy. You just don't realize I feel the same because all of my energy is spent trying to do the absolute best for our daughter. This is, at the end of the day, my new job. And just as I've worked hard in my career to be the very best, I have vowed to do the same with my new responsibilities.

Some days are better than others. But know that every day is a strange and unnerving contrast of excitement, happiness, and love mixed with anxiety,  fear and worry. Being a new mom can feel a bit bipolar; I want to nurse but at the same time, I want my body back. I love feeling needed by our daughter,  but I crave time alone. I look forward to giving her my all, yet I want time with you and my friends.  These feelings are entirely normal and it's no wonder with all the new changes - hormonal and otherwise. Throw in all the societal expectations for moms on breastfeeding and this is enough to put someone over the edge.

At the end of the day, know that what we're both feeling is normal.  Know that maintaining our relationship will now take a bit more effort and creativity. And know that your partner craves the same closeness and connection that you do, even if it doesn't seem like it. We'll get through because one thing is for sure- no one day is the same and every day does get better.

Love
Your wife.