I Punched My Husband In the Gut

I started writing a blog for today until my husband came home. It wasn’t this one. I couldn’t go back to writing the other one, after the conversation that followed.

My husband has a break from coaching this week and it’s the first time that we have been able to sit down together.

We haven’t been on the same page recently. We have been in the same book but far from the same page. If any of you have ever been in a relationship, than you know when you are not on the same page, conversation can get a little tense and blow up out of no where. I say no where but it’s definitely from somewhere, like the last five conversations and one argument that didn’t go so well.

There was a show playing in the background where two people bumped into each other after splitting up, the woman was now married and the man was upset he missed his chance. My husband looked at me and said that he was so happy we are married. I didn’t respond immediately. I responded, “Me too babe.” then brought up that the other day I felt the opposite.

Oh, did you hear that bomb go off?


All that build up the past few weeks of both of us being incredibly busy and wrapped up on our separate pages left me throwing my hands up in the air irrationally asking myself, “Why did I get married if I was going to be alone in this?”

My husband wakes up around 4:30AM, that’s if our girl doesn’t wake him/us up earlier. He goes to work and comes home in the late morning, which is when I go to work. He then takes Kanga to work and I meet them there for a nap and lunch break. Then baby girl and I head back to my work. Hubby stays at his work. I finish work, then head home to bathe, feed, and put our little one to bed. I make dinner as best I can in between a couple wakings. Papa comes home. We eat, then we sleep. This is usually the routine in our life. We usually handle it with smiles and laughs. With the lack of sleep and complete exhaustion it’s been a a little more rough than usual.IMG_4451.JPG

We are both very aware how taxing the routine is on us as individuals. But what I think my husband and others who aren’t mothers or caretakers for someone who solely depends on you for their survival, is that it gets lonely as fuck. I become jealous of my husband for being able to go to a place where he is loved, and can have substantial conversations with great people. I am jealous that he can go to a place with a foundation where his existence is more than a father. He is viewed and respected as a great man not only because he is a father but because of everything he is plus that. He gets to feel that energy on a daily basis.
The majority of my day is chasing a baby and trying to keep her from choking on dog food or dumping herself into an empty tub, head first. I clean up feminine hygiene pads from every corner of the house because she loves to put them in our dog’s water, under the couch, and all sorts of other places. I’m not saying this to have a pissing contest with my husband. It’s not tit for tat. But what it is, is very different on a daily basis. I’m not saying that I don’t feel loved, I’m not saying that I’m not surrounded by great people. But my daily interactions with others are limited.

We live very different lives from the day to day but with the same purpose in mind. That is the glue that keeps us together. I wouldn’t trade marriage with my husband or mothering my child for a single thing in this world. But this is hard. This shit sucks sometimes— and sometimes no matter how much you love your significant other and the life you live together, when you don’t have the time or energy to get on the same page, shit hits the fan and you throw your hands up in the air thinking mean things. Then sometimes you tell your husband those hurtful things that you thought and everything is out on the floor. All the pages get torn out of the book, re-arranged and put back together so we can all be on the same page.

I don’t write this to whine about my life. I don’t write this to dog on my husband. I’m incredibly lucky, we are incredibly lucky to have such honesty in our relationship and communication where I can tell him something that is probably crushing to hear. We are lucky to be in a position that we can take our daughter to work with us, we have loving people in our lives who love our daughter. We.are.lucky.IMG_5292

Even still, motherhood is hard. Parenthood is hard. Relationships are hard. To pretend that it’s not, to paint some fake picture that everything is just so peachy, is fake. It’s dishonest and it does a disservice to the conversation of parenthood in society.

That being said, laugh. Reach out to other mothers and parents so you don’t feel so secluded and alone in your parenthood bubble. I don’t have the time to go to mommy and me meet-ups or the classes that I wish I could attend. But the group of mothers and women that send supportive text messages, with tid-bits of their crazy mom moments and baby brain stories makes it all better.

My husband and I got engaged after a year, we were engaged ten months, three of those months I was pregnant, six of our newly wed months we were pregnant, then came baby. That is so much change in two years. It is the most blessed change but still two huge life adjustments in the span of two years. Arguing, talking, and laying it all out there with one another instead of resentment is necessary in order to make life work. It is necessary to build strong relationship so we can be the best parents to our daughter.

Communicate and keep life in perspective.



Our daughter will be in school one day and I won’t be picking up her pads or scooping dog food out of her mouth and I’ll look at my husband and laugh. Maybe after an argument about one of our other future babies running around, but at least we’ll be able to laugh.

Cheers to bumps in the road and having the tools to get over it.


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