What changed in my marriage after having kids

The real question is ‘what didn’t change’. Before having kids I had this idealistic view of what life would be like. We’d talk about the pitter patter of little feet, the cute giggles and cuddles in bed on Saturday mornings, going on family outings to make memories. 

 

The reality is not nearly as Disney themed as I imagined it was going to be. It was closer to a baptism by fire than the cute family vlogs I saw on my IG feed.

 

So here’s the honest truth about what changed in my marriage after kids, less Disney, more chaotic reality show. 

The illusion, shattered

Even before falling pregnant with my first baby, I was watching family vloggers. Not obsessively but if I needed a boost of wholesome content, that was my go to. I’d watch these beautiful families be ‘real’ about what starting a family was like. I won’t lie, I was naive and thought that was exactly what being a Mum and having kids was going to be like. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

While pregnant, I really took to heart the advice I’d see on Mum accounts on IG and all the experts talking on podcasts about parenting. The usual stuff: “It’s just a season of life”, “Enjoy your babies because they grow up so fast”, “Have patience with yourself, you’re learning too”. I wrote those mental notes down on invisible post-it notes and stuck them on the front side of my brain, determined for them be my North Star during the tough times I knew would come. Those post-it notes are still there months and years later, but just like in real life, when they’re constantly in your view you stop actually seeing them. 

Once I had my first, the reality of not having a village and only relying on my husband and I set in. It wasn’t supposed to be a village-less experience but thats a long and complicated story of its own. Nevertheless, it was he and I versus parenthood. I always thought I could handle  my husband not getting up to change the baby in the middle of the night but low and behold, night two of having our daughter home, the resentment started to build. Don’t worry, we talked about it and it didn’t fester into anything beyond that but still, early on being the Mum felt both like a privilege and a hazing at the same time. If I’m being real, it still does.

“Once more into the trenches dear friends”

The older our first baby got, the more I realised how little time I had to nurture my relationship with my Husband. We weren’t intimate because I still needed time to recover and to be brutally honest, there was nothing I wanted to do less than sexy time. Eventually, we started dabbling in ‘the deed’ again and after agreeing we would eventually have another baby (key word being eventually), the first and only time without protection - VOILA! Bun in the oven the sequel was in production, much to the dismay of my Husband who wanted to have more time to ‘practice’. Before we even got to properly reintroduce ourselves to each other intimately, I was back on the morning sickness wagon and he was being the supportive partner trying his best to address my pregnancy cravings. 

If I thought we had no time for each other after I had our first, pregnant again nine months postpartum, we not only struggled to find time, I struggled to physically. Throw in the mix a teething 11 month old who is also being weened off the boob while having big feelings and we shifted solidly into house mate territory. House mates that still love each other, but only every now and then hook up. We talked to each other differently. More short, less loving. We’d always reset and talk it through but the resets needed to happen every week, not like before when it was maybe once a month or so.

When little man arrived, he had health complications which threw a big ol’ spanner in the mix and we had the roughest month of our lives. We’d never been apart so much and for so long. Combine that with sleep deprivation and recovering from giving birth while sleeping on a hospital room bench seat converted into a bed with a pillow and blanket at night, safe to say it didn’t feel like the start to the magical family of four I had envisioned. I kept things together, he kept things together, but by a singular thread shared between us. 

We’d learned from other couples who had been through far more difficult situations with their kids and postpartum that we needed to stay as connected as possible, so we talked - a lot. Through text, in person, phone calls, video calls,everyday, multiple times a day. And we made it through. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t still have our challenges. 

Hobbies for one, not for all

I miss having hobbies, me time that’s solely dedicated to what I want to do. And guess who doesn’t miss their hobbies. My husband. Yes, he’s scaled them back and yes, he changed when he did them to accommodate having a young family, but he still gets to do them. And it makes me jealous. Not because I don’t want him to enjoy himself because I do. Because supporting those hobbies and showing an interest in them rubs salt in the wound for me. 

We have velcro babies which part of me loves. I love that they love and need me so much but at the same time, I don’t know who I am anymore outside of them anymore. In truth that’s because essentially, there is no version of me without them anymore. My husband has always encouraged me to pursue my hobbies again but honestly, I have tremendous Mum guilt. So much so that missing out on hobbies is the lesser of two evils right now. I guess that’s why I started My Motherhood Confessions, it was the only thing I could do within the confines of motherhood while being something or someone outside of being their Mum, whilst still being their Mum. 

New me. Same him 

I miss my old body. Meanwhile, my husband still looks as great as he did before our kids (honestly, probably even better). Do I resent that, yes and no. Logically, he can’t have the babies so it’s not his fault. But the age old accusation of “this is your fault” being screamed at husbands around the world while Mums push giant baby heads out of their hooha somehow reverberated subconsciously into my postpartum. 

I still struggle to reconcile being the person he fell in love with as a young, fit and bubbly 27 year old, with him loving me more as an older, more tired, less patient 35 year old Mum of two who is still 10kgs heavier than pre-babies me. That’s definitely a me problem because he is more supportive and reassuring than I ever imagined a man could be. And yet, it still gnaws away at how willing I am to show my physical body to him. It’s like I’m keeping an embarrassing secret from him, which he is completely aware of. I somehow think hiding my postpartum body means he won’t judge me for it the way I’m judging myself (when I know he definitely doesn’t judge me at all). 

Subjects of tiny tyrants 

Doing anything uninterrupted together, what a dream, what a luxury and completely unreasonable request. A conversation, a coffee, dinner, watching a show - they’re all sprinkled with interludes from either or both of the kids wants and needs. Yes, it’s a season of life and yes, I will miss them being this small when they’re not anymore but it doesn’t make the uninterrupted nature of our “us time” any easier. 

We get through it of course. We smile without our eyes at each other while waiting out our two year olds seventh tantrum of the day. We take collective deep breaths while waiting for the Dymadon to kick in for our teething baby so he can stop screaming and pawing at his month like a baby possessed. In the chaos, we’ve united in different ways. Not in ways where we get to enjoy each other but in ways that tell each other we’re on the same page, in the same book, even if that book is looking a little worse for wear these days. 

The Silver Lining

Needless to say, our marriage and relationship looks nothing like it did before we had kids, but it’s not all bad. The feeling of doing the hardest things you’ve done in your life with someone by your side who loves you, cares for you and is riding headfirst into the barrage of challenges ahead is unlike any other. It’s not sexy or cute, and a lot of the time the experiences are more humbling than we’ve been prepared for. That being said, I know that man has my back and wants the best for me in every situation, and vice versa.

We’ve learnt that in the aftermath of the absence of patience, our strength is communicating, apologising and building back better. It turns out at this stage of life, that is more valuable than having the inbuilt patience of a saint. We’ve found our individual strong suits and we play to them, while letting the other person manage the learning curve to level up as well. We discovered how deep our resilience is and continues to be grows with the stresses of kids, marriage and just life stuff. Most of all, (and this will sound corny as hell, but whatever) we have found how important love is in every relationship, especially ours but also with every person we have in our lives. Choosing to love each other everyday is a conscious choice, and it’s one we’re happy to choose because we’re both in it for the long run. 

So in essence, what changed in our marriage after having kids? Everything. Everything changed for us after having kids and truthfully, I’m not only okay with that, I’ve learned to welcome it. Because change is growth and I’m all about outgrowing the old to make way for the new - even if the growing pains to get there suck.