“We were together. We forget the rest.” – Walt Whitman

It was your typical fairy tale…boy sees girl, girl ignores boy for approximately 4 years until she decided he was the “one”, boy and girl date for 4 years and through 2 long distance stints, boy proposes to girl despite tumultuous time with girl’s family, and boy and girl lived happily ever after.  Have you ever noticed that the fairy tales never seem to continue into parenthood? Probably for a very valid reason: mainly that there is absolutely nothing “fairy tale” about parenthood.

You go from juggling work, friends, date nights, possibly some pets, and figuring out how to decorate your new place…and then one day you look at each other and decide you are ready to light your whole life on fire and watch it burn. This may sound very tongue in cheek; however, it feels very much like the life you once knew is completely gone and you are faced with the task of building a new life together all while keeping a very small human alive on little to no sleep. 

I have loved the increased visibility of the struggle of postpartum mothers, but I still feel that there is a huge lack of transparency on the struggle and strain that postpartum (and children in general) places on partners and on marriages. As a staunch feminist, I am by no means saying that men deserve our sympathy for sleeping on a hard couch in a dry room while at the hospital, but I would be remiss if we didn’t discuss how brutal this process is on all parties involved. 

When a child is born, so is a mother, and often, so is a father. As adrift as mothers feel in a foreign and healing body as they are tossed into a sea of hormones, nursing, and the never-ending feeling of being needed, their partners too are adrift. Although they do not experience the same physical changes as the mother, they too are adrift in a sea of sleeplessness, feeling helpless, and unsure. They have, in a sense, lost their partner to this new being. Fathers do not have the same journey to parenthood as mothers do. Mothers get to feel the kicks and wiggles, the nausea, and the seemingly endless stretching and growing. While Fathers watch this from a distance, they do not have the same connection to the baby for 10 months, and many times I hear men say they didn’t feel like a father until after the baby is born. So here are two humans (with little to no experience in the Baby Business) thrown together; feeling helpless, afraid, exhausted, numb, ecstatic, and at the base of it all, lost. They have lost themselves; their identities have been erased, leaving a blank space for them to be rebuilt and recreated. They have lost each other, two humans who once were each other’s entire worlds, now fumbling in the darkness looking for any glimmer of light. 

It is no wonder that even the strongest of partnerships falter and can even fail given these circumstances. We are all only human. Even if you have the best laid plans and have communicated ad nauseum about the restructuring of duties (which let’s be honest…this is a rare occurrence). Even in modern times, it is still a subconscious assumption that the woman takes on most of the household labor. And in the early days of postpartum, the scales will be far from equally balanced. It has always seemed a little unfair that the men couldn’t at least breastfeed…but I didn’t create this biological system. Additionally, if the mother is suffering from any postpartum anxiety/depression/OCD, she might be physically unable to relinquish control of any form. Personally, I felt as though I couldn’t and shouldn’t ask my husband for help. Deep seeded patriarchal ideas? Severe anxiety? Fear of being a failure as a mother and needing to constantly prove my worth? More than likely, a combination of all of it. So that added fuel to our existing fire…my husband feeling helpless and me feeling controlling—not an ideal marriage dynamic.

However, I remember vividly our breaking point. I had a difficult time being pregnant and accepting my changing body. I did not feel beautiful and glowing—I felt swollen and sweaty. As a (now retired) professional dancer, my body had always been my instrument and in my control, and pregnancy was the exact opposite of control. So after the night where Tiki drinks led to our now oldest daughter, I did not let my husband touch me for the remainder of the pregnancy. (Except for our one disastrous attempt at inducing labor. 10 out of 10 do not recommend). Fast forward to a very difficult and traumatic birthing experience and an absurd amount of stiches and “reconstruction” that healed much tighter than the original model—I will let you all guess how long it took to attempt intimacy again. If you guessed 8 months postpartum, you would be the lucky winner! So back to the breaking point…my 6-week checkup had come and gone. I had been “approved for activity” and I stared at my OBGYN, dumbfounded that she would approve any activity that would put me back into a delivery room. My husband bought lobster and champagne and I choked it down with a lump in my throat knowing that what he was wishing for I would be unable to deliver. I declined that night and for many more nights ahead. Finally, months later, we were sitting in our kitchen having a glass of rose and talking. My husband began openly discussing how hard the new baby had been for him and for our marriage. He felt so disconnected from me physically and emotionally. We both cried that night and knew we had to make a drastic change in our approach to parenthood, if we wanted our marriage to survive. 

I don’t want to fail to mention that I know I picked the right partner…I hate saying “I lucked out” because I didn’t. It was a conscious choice that I made who to bring on this crazy journey of life and parenthood. To any younger women reading this, please note: If your significant other does not pick up after themselves, chip in around the house, share the mental and physical labor of running a household…you need to get out now. It will not get better. People do not change just because there is a baby involved. Choose your partner for the long term not for the right now. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. My husband and I, long before kids came along, had broken out of any gendered roles that traditionally exist in a household. He does the adult laundry (because he hated the way I fold clothes…former retail snobbery I suppose…), he meal plans and grocery shops (because I hate grocery shopping…also I without fail go in while hungry and come home with too much money spent and absolutely no food items that make logical sense), he cooks dinners (because he loves cooking, I don’t, and I used to work very late evening hours rendering it impossible to be Suzy Homemaker with dinner on the stove). He also is wicked with a mop and vacuum. The fact that he takes all of this on allows me to have more space in my life to do the kids’ laundry (doesn’t always get folded or put away, but it gets washed!), help the kids with their homework, run the schedule for our household, plan big events, book appointments, manage extracurricular activities, help at the kids’ school, making sure the kids have clothing and shoes that fit, and work outside of the home. I truly do not how I would ever do all of this without his help. To any woman reading this who is feeling blown away by the structure of our duties, our structure does not work for everyone, but also consider sitting down with your partner and discussing how the scales could be tipped to create a more equitable balance.

All of this to say, even though my husband does so much, I still found myself absolutely enraged by him after our child was born. I felt like he wasn’t doing all that I was doing. It seemed unfair that his body was unscathed, that he could sleep soundly at night, that he could come and go as he pleased without having to worry about nap schedules, feeding times or pumping.  He was truly and beautifully sympathetic and empathetic, but that did not lessen my rage. Even a short six years ago, no one discussed maternal rage and how although normal, could be warning sign for PPA/PPD, hormonal imbalances, or just a red flag for unmet needs. 

Partners: if you find that you or your partner is increasingly short-tempered, full of rage and fury, and angrier than usual—try giving them unstructured time to be alone, read a book, go for a walk, talk to a friend…anything that brings them joy and makes them feel like their “old selves” again. Key word: ALONE. In the early months and years of postpartum this is tricky, but please make it a priority. Although this is not the only cure for maternal rage, it is a huge component.

Please remember, your partner cannot read your mind. As much as you can and as often as you can, be clear and specific with your needs, plans, thoughts, and desires. This will save you so much heartache and tension.

Besides explicitly stating your needs, clear and calm communication, and ample alone time for each partner—make sure you are making time for your marriage. Put it on the calendar. Even if it is just a movie when the kids are asleep, plan it and stick to the plan. Try to remember why you ended up with your partner to begin with. Was it the way they laughed? The silly song they would sing that would make you double over with laughter? The color of their eyes? Bring back that magic and you will slowly find each other again. 

Although we are *only* one decade into marriage and six years into parenthood, we have had our fair share of ups and downs. The Pandemic was a very hard year for us, as it was for many couples and families. Being stuck at home with the same four people is not for the faint of heart. I proposed several times that I would be moving to the woods because the family would be better off without me. Spoiler: I still live at home, but the cabin in the woods is still a fantasy.  We still struggle with finding time for intimacy with two young children—differing levels of drive, busy schedules, exhaustion…the list goes on and on…and level-setting our expectations has taken a lot of work, communication, honesty, vulnerability, and emotional maturity on both of our parts. My husband has had to learn that just because I say “no” it’s not because I find him repulsive or don’t love him anymore, and I have learned to try to say “yes” more often knowing that I am just slow to warm up sometimes. The amount of times I wondered if low-drive was an indicator of something being wrong with me, feeling guilty for not being on the same page as my husband, and just full of self-loathing for not being able to just feel “ready” was immense. I have learned that this is normal. Every one and in every chapter has different levels of readiness. I have learned that I have a light brake and heavy accelerator (thank you Emily Nagoski…if you haven’t read “Come as You Are”, you need to NOW). I have worked on getting out of my own head—to try to stay present in the moment and not worry about the million other things I could be thinking about. And most importantly, I am working on overcoming my shame surrounding sexuality and bodies (stemming largely from my religious background and education within the Catholic Church—that is a whole other essay for another day.) 

If you are newly postpartum, do not think you are doing anything wrong. These first few months (and years) will be a constant journey of learning, stretching, growing, evolving and finding your path. The best advice I can give you is this: keep growing with each other. You are going to discover new aspects of your partner, as they become a parent; you are going to discover new aspects of yourself, as you become a parent. That’s the beauty of this moment in time—you truly get to live out the “for better or for worse” portion of the vows you took. So as you each evolve and undergo your own beautiful metamorphosis into “mom” and “dad”, make sure you are evolving and growing together. It is so easy to grow apart, but remember the person you are with and why you started this journey together. At the end of the day, does it truly matter who took the trash out the last time? Is the way they load the dishwasher truly a deal-breaker? Chances are, when the kids are grown and flown, the words of Walt Whitman will ring even truer and sweeter “We were together. We forget the rest.”