Everything seemed fine between my husband, Dave, and me before our daughter was born. But once she arrived, things began to shift. Dave thought that I wasn’t doing much around the house while he was at work, so I decided to show him how wrong he was.
When I found out I was pregnant, I made the choice to quit my job so I could focus entirely on being a mother and wife. Dave supported my decision, believing that it would be the best choice for our child.
My pregnancy was smooth and without complications. I didn’t have trouble moving around, so I’d often go to the market and prepare meals for Dave when he came home from work. I started feeling the urge to clean and organize everything around the house early on, and by my second trimester, I was cleaning non-stop.
“Wow, our house has never looked this great, honey,” Dave once said with a smile. “Thanks for keeping everything together for us.” He kissed me on the cheek, and I felt proud of my efforts.
I continued to keep everything neat and tidy as my pregnancy progressed. Finally, at 39 weeks, I gave birth to our daughter, Marissa. When she was born, I realized that she was my whole world. She depended on me for everything, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else but being there for her.
However, Dave didn’t seem to understand how much I was really doing. He would complain about how messy the house was getting and how we were eating the same meals for days on end. One evening, he said, “Why are we eating leftovers again? The house is a mess. What have you been doing all day?”
I tried to explain, “I don’t have time to cook something new every day, Dave. Marissa cries a lot, and she’s colicky. She needs me, and I can’t leave her alone.”
But he didn’t seem convinced. “Marissa can stay in the crib while you do things around the house. It won’t take that long!” he snapped.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why don’t you try it, then?” I burst out. “I’m doing my best to be a great mom. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to breastfeed every two hours? And when I’m not feeding her, she just wants to be held. She cries every time I put her down. I literally have no time to do anything else!”
Dave crossed his arms. “What are you trying to say? I work all day and come home to a dirty house and reheated food. Why wouldn’t I be frustrated? Stop hiding behind the baby and admit it—you’re just being lazy.”
His words stung like a slap in the face. “That hurt,” I whispered, turning away from him and walking to our bedroom, my eyes brimming with tears.
I couldn’t understand how he didn’t see how hard it was to care for a baby on my own. Yes, he supported us financially, but he was hardly ever home. And when he was, he barely helped with Marissa unless I was in the shower or needed a quick break.
At that moment, I knew I had to show him what I was really going through. He wouldn’t understand until he experienced it firsthand. So, one weekend, I decided to leave.
I saw that Marissa had fallen asleep on Dave’s chest, so I quietly made my move. I wrote him a note and left it on the kitchen counter. “I’m going on vacation and will return in a week. Marissa’s milk is in the fridge.”
I switched off my phone, grabbed my bag, and left. I booked a trip to the beach, a place where I could truly unwind and do things just for me for the first time in months.
When Dave found the note, he was furious. He rushed downstairs, reading it with wide eyes. “What is this?!” he muttered to himself, shocked and angry.
But the real trouble started with my mother-in-law. She called him almost immediately. “How can that woman be so irresponsible!” she yelled at him. “A woman’s job is to raise her children, not a man’s! If she couldn’t handle it, then she shouldn’t have gotten married!”
I scoffed when I heard her voice through the baby monitor in the background. I couldn’t believe she was saying all of that. She had nannies raise her kids, while Dave and I couldn’t afford such luxuries. It felt so unfair for her to judge me like that.
Meanwhile, Dave was left alone with Marissa, and he quickly learned how hard it was to care for a baby on his own. He had to change her diapers, bathe her, feed her, burp her—everything. He was exhausted, and by the end of the weekend, he was done.
“I get it!” he shouted at one point. “Just come home already!” he pleaded, as though he were talking to me, even though I wasn’t there.
I watched from afar using the baby monitors set up around the house. Dave didn’t have time to clean, cook, or even get a good night’s sleep. Every day, he ordered takeout, unable to juggle both work and parenting.
By Wednesday, he was completely overwhelmed. He called his mom, his voice breaking as he cried for help. “Mom,” he sobbed into the phone. “Jamie left me with nothing but a note, and I can’t handle this anymore. Can you please help me? I haven’t slept in days!”
I could hear my mother-in-law yelling at him through the monitor again. “How could she leave you like that? It’s a woman’s responsibility to take care of the children! If she couldn’t handle it, then she shouldn’t have gotten married!” she scolded.
I rolled my eyes. She had no idea what it was like to struggle like I did. It wasn’t fair that she could criticize me while having so much help.
When I finally came home, I found Dave waiting for me. His face was full of regret, and he apologized right away. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, his voice sincere. “You go through so much every day, and I still demanded things from you. I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
He hugged me tightly. “I promise I’ll be a better partner and a more present parent. You and Marissa deserve that.”
While I appreciated his apology, I was still bothered by what my mother-in-law had said. I wanted to know if other people had gone through similar experiences. Should a woman really be solely responsible for raising the children and keeping the house in order, or should both parents share the responsibilities equally? What do you think?
