My Husband Resented Me During Pregnancy {Anonymous Stories in Motherhood}

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pregnantI just want to close my eyes. Close the blinds, close the curtains, and sit in the dark. 

I muster the energy to eat something. Anything. But I can’t. Whatever I ingest will come back up. I feel so weak and lightheaded. I just want to close my eyes. 

I hear the garage door rumble, and I cringe. My whole body tenses up. I hold my breath and pray to God, “please don’t be mean to me.” 

He walks in, exhausted from a long day of work. He puts his work bag down and takes a long exhale. I see him through my tired, sunken eyes—frustration on his brows and stressed lips. I hide a little bit deeper into the couch. 

This pregnancy has been using every inch of my being to grow this baby. Robbing me of my energy and appetite and leaving me weak, starving, and helpless. My version of morning sickness was debilitating. I thought the joy and happiness of being finally pregnant would last forever until morning sickness came knocking.

But my husband didn’t believe I was sick. He wasn’t convinced that I was weak and suffering. He thought I was being lazy and taking advantage of staying home. But I WAS suffering. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally suffering. 

He began to belittle me. He became passive-aggressive. He’d throw his anger at me and blamed me for everything that went wrong. He said, “I work all day and you couldn’t clean the kitchen?” He scoffed at me and ordered me around. “Maybe you’d feel better if you mowed the lawn,” he sneered. I never cried so hard in my life.

While pregnant I got to a point where there was nothing left in my stomach to vomit. My husband resented me. The more he came at me, the more I retreated. But I had nowhere to go. Nothing was good enough. I wasn’t good enough.

My brain was filled with thoughts: Maybe if I did this, things would be better. Maybe if I were better, stronger, smarter, this wouldn’t have happened. 

Maybe if I weren’t pregnant, I wouldn’t be treated this way. 

This life that I dreamed of, fought for and prayed for. I wanted to wish it away just so my husband would be nice to me. I knew I hit rock bottom. I wanted to be gone. 

As I hid on the couch, he said “hi” under his breath, but he didn’t look at me. I listened to his footsteps walk away as I sink deeper into the couch. This man who I loved deeply couldn’t bear to look at me, who vowed to me for better, for worse, in sickness and in health. Someone who I trusted and confided in, I could no longer go to for comfort. Is this what I have to go through to have a child? Do other pregnant women go through this? Is it worth it? 

I just want to close my eyes. Close the blinds, close the curtains, and sit in the dark. 

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