My Husband Said I Couldn’t Handle Our Baby or the House but He Begged for Forgiveness After Walking in My Shoes — Story of the Day

Even with help, with someone around, those sleepless nights, the crying baby, and the fear of messing everything up made you feel utterly alone.

I had wanted to become a mom. I had prepared for it in every possible way, for a long time.

But it turned out to be so much harder than I ever expected. I loved my son with all my heart, so much that it felt like the weight of that love might crush me.

From the moment Jimmy was born, my life turned completely upside down. I expected it to be tough.

I knew there would be sleepless nights, endless crying. But I never expected it to be this lonely.

24/7 I was home alone with a baby who could barely make a sound beyond crying.

I could not even remember the last time I had a normal, full conversation with another adult.

Hunter came home late, and we barely talked. He was always exhausted from work. I started to feel like I would forget how to speak altogether.

I watched as Hunter became more and more irritable each day. At first, he would quietly pick up baby stuff, make himself a sandwich, and ignore the dirty dishes.

Then he started kicking things around, eating out, and eventually yelling about the dishes.

I asked him to hire some help — a cleaner or a nanny, even just once a week. But he always refused. Said I was the woman, and that meant it was my responsibility.

When Jimmy was almost a month old, Hunter came home late again after having dinner at a restaurant.

His face twisted in frustration when he walked into the bedroom and saw the pile of dirty clothes on the floor — the ones I had not managed to throw in the washer.

“How was work?” I asked.

“I’m exhausted. You’ve no idea how hard it is. You’re lucky, you’re on vacation,” Hunter muttered.

As insulting as his words were, I chose to ignore them. I did not want another fight.

“We need to buy diapers,” I told him.

“Are you kidding me? I just bought some,” Hunter snapped.

“We’re out,” I said calmly.

“What do you do with them? Feed them to him?” he fired back. “You need to be more economical.”

“I change them when I need to,” I answered, and Hunter rolled his eyes.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, already annoyed.

“Everything! The house is a mess, there’s no food, you don’t do anything!” he yelled.

“I’m taking care of our son,” I said, holding back my frustration.

“You could be doing stuff while he naps. But I know you sleep when he sleeps, I came home for lunch once and saw it!” he snapped.

“Because I don’t sleep at night! If I don’t get at least some rest, I’ll lose my mind!” I shouted back.

“You could at least do something! I can’t even eat at home — I have to go out for meals!” Hunter kept going.

“Oh, poor you, eating at restaurants. You know what I had today? One cookie!” I screamed.

“Then why didn’t you cook us something?” he demanded.

“Because I didn’t have time!” I yelled. “I asked you to get me some help!”

“I’m not hiring anyone! You should handle everything on your own. You’re a woman. You’re a mom. Our moms did it just fine!” he barked. “And besides, I don’t make that much money to hire a maid for you.”

“I make enough to pay for all this, but you won’t let me work,” I said coldly.

“You’re the mom, you should stay home with the baby,” Hunter replied firmly.

“Says who?” I asked, glaring at him.

“Says me,” he answered without hesitation.

“You think maternity leave is some kind of vacation — that’s why you’re mad at me,” I said.

“Because that’s exactly what it is. Jimmy’s just a baby. He barely needs anything. You could keep the house in order and still have time for yourself,” he insisted.

“You really believe that?” I asked quietly.

“Because it’s true,” he said.

Just then, Jimmy’s cry filled the room, and I walked to the nursery. Before leaving, I turned back and told Hunter, “This conversation isn’t over.”

The next morning, while Hunter sipped his coffee, which felt like a luxury I had not tasted in ages, I placed a piece of paper in front of him. I had written it the night before while putting Jimmy to bed.

“What’s this?” Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A deal. A challenge. Call it whatever you want,” I told him. “We’re making an agreement. For one month, we’re switching roles. I go to work, and you stay home for what you like to call a ‘vacation.’”

“And what exactly are we trying to prove with this?” Hunter questioned, squinting at the paper.

“If you can handle the baby and the house for a month, then we go back to the way things were. You return to work, and I’ll stay home on leave. I’ll cook, clean, and take care of Jimmy — no complaints,” I explained.