Eliza Hartley
I always thought that having kids would bring my partner and me closer together.
It seemed like the natural next step—the thing that would solidify our bond and make us feel more like a team than ever before. Everyone talks about the magic of starting a family, how it deepens love and brings a new sense of purpose.
But nothing prepared me for the way it almost tore us apart.
Sleepless nights, constant stress, and the overwhelming responsibility of raising a child exposed cracks in our relationship that we didn’t even know existed. The little annoyances that used to be easy to brush off suddenly felt unbearable.
The differences in our parenting styles turned into full-blown arguments. And instead of feeling more connected, we often felt like strangers navigating a storm with no clear way forward.
It wasn’t just about the stress of parenting—it was about everything it revealed underneath.
Here’s how we faced those challenges head-on and found a way back to each other before it was too late.
1) We stopped seeing each other as a team
Before having kids, it felt like my partner and I were on the same side. We made decisions together, supported each other, and faced challenges as a unit.
But once we became parents, everything changed.
Instead of feeling like teammates, we started keeping score—who was getting less sleep, who was doing more around the house, who was sacrificing more. Every little thing turned into a competition, and resentment started to build.
It wasn’t intentional, but the stress of parenting pushed us into survival mode. And when you’re just trying to get through the day, it’s easy to forget that you’re supposed to be in this together.
We had to take a step back and ask ourselves: Were we going to let parenting pull us apart, or were we going to find a way to reconnect as partners first?
2) We communicated, but we weren’t really listening
Once we stopped seeing each other as a team, our conversations became more like transactions.
We still talked—about schedules, about the baby, about what needed to get done—but we weren’t actually hearing each other. Everything felt rushed, surface-level, and laced with frustration.
I remember one night when I finally broke down. I told my partner I felt completely alone, like I was carrying the weight of everything on my own.
I expected him to comfort me, to tell me he understood. But instead, he got defensive. He told me he was doing his best and that he felt unappreciated too.
That moment made me realize we weren’t having real conversations anymore. We were just reacting to each other, waiting for our turn to speak instead of truly listening. And if we kept going like that, we were never going to fix what was breaking between us.
3) We let exhaustion turn us into the worst versions of ourselves
Sleep deprivation and constant stress didn’t just make me tired—they made me short-tempered, impatient, and emotionally drained.
Little things that wouldn’t have bothered me before suddenly felt unbearable. A misplaced bottle, a forgotten diaper bag, a delayed bedtime—every small inconvenience felt like proof that my partner wasn’t pulling his weight. And I know he felt the same way about me.
Parenting on empty left no room for kindness. We were surviving, not thriving, and in that state, we saw the worst in each other instead of the best. It wasn’t until we acknowledged how much exhaustion was shaping our reactions that we started to pull ourselves out of it.
4) Our brains were wired for conflict
When people argue, their brains release cortisol, the stress hormone. High levels of cortisol make it harder to think clearly, regulate emotions, and empathize with the other person. In other words, the more stressed we became, the worse we were at actually solving our problems.
Looking back, that explained so much about our fights. They always started over something small—who was supposed to do the night feeding, why the laundry hadn’t been folded—but they escalated fast.
The more we argued, the more defensive we got, and the harder it became to see each other as allies instead of opponents.
It wasn’t that we didn’t love each other anymore. It was that we were stuck in a cycle where stress kept fueling more stress, and neither of us knew how to break it.
5) We forgot to take care of our relationship
Everything became about the baby.
Every conversation, every decision, every ounce of energy we had went into making sure our child was okay. And while that felt like the right thing to do, it came at a cost—we stopped nurturing our marriage.
Date nights disappeared. Small gestures of love and appreciation became rare. Even basic affection, like holding hands or checking in on each other’s feelings, started to feel like an afterthought.
It wasn’t that we didn’t care; it was that we assumed our relationship could survive on autopilot while we focused on parenting.
But relationships don’t work that way. Just like children need attention and care to thrive, so do marriages. And by the time we realized how much we had neglected ours, we were already drifting dangerously far apart.
6) We expected each other to just know what we needed
I assumed my partner could see how overwhelmed I was. I thought he noticed the way I was barely holding it together, the way I desperately needed a break but didn’t know how to ask for one. And when he didn’t step in the way I wanted him to, I felt resentful.
But the truth is, he was struggling too. And just like me, he was silently hoping I would notice and offer the support he needed.
We both fell into the trap of expecting the other person to read our minds. Instead of clearly saying, “I need help with this,” or “I really need a moment to myself,” we waited—waited for each other to just know, to just do it. And when that didn’t happen, it only deepened the frustration between us.
It took us a long time to realize that unspoken needs don’t get met. If we wanted to support each other, we had to stop assuming and start communicating what we actually needed.
7) We started seeing each other as the problem
It’s easy to blame the person closest to you when things feel like they’re falling apart.
When I was exhausted, frustrated, and overwhelmed, my partner became the easiest target. If I was struggling, it must have been because he wasn’t doing enough. If we were constantly arguing, it must have been because he didn’t understand me.
The stress made it hard to see that we weren’t enemies—we were both drowning in the same storm.
The turning point came when we stopped blaming each other and started recognizing that the real problem wasn’t either of us—it was the pressure, the exhaustion, and the unrealistic expectations we had placed on what parenting would do for our marriage.
Once we shifted our focus to tackling those issues together instead of turning on each other, things finally started to change.
8) We had to choose each other—again and again
Love isn’t just something you feel. It’s something you choose.
In the hardest moments, when the distance between us felt impossible to close, we had to make a decision: Were we going to keep fighting for this marriage, or were we going to let it slip away?
There wasn’t a single breakthrough or one big conversation that fixed everything. It was a series of small choices—choosing patience when frustration felt easier, choosing kindness when resentment wanted to take over, choosing to reach for each other even when it felt awkward and unfamiliar.
Marriage doesn’t automatically grow stronger just because you have kids. If anything, it tests every part of your relationship. And in the end, what saved us wasn’t the idea of family itself—it was the decision, every day, to truly show up for each other.
The bottom line
Parenthood doesn’t automatically strengthen a marriage—it magnifies what’s already there. The love, the connection, the teamwork—but also the cracks, the unspoken expectations, and the unresolved tensions.
For us, becoming parents wasn’t just about raising a child; it was about relearning how to show up for each other in an entirely new way.
It forced us to communicate better, to be more intentional with our time, and to recognize that love isn’t just something that exists—it’s something that has to be nurtured.
There were moments when it would have been easier to walk away. But instead, we chose to rebuild. To listen more deeply, to give each other grace, and to commit—not just to our child, but to each other.
No marriage is immune to struggle. But sometimes, the hardest seasons are the ones that teach us how strong our love really is.
