At the time that I gave birth to our daughter, my husband and I were enjoying a happy and successful life together. He was under the impression that I was sitting around doing nothing while he was at work, so I made the decision to go away for a week in order to demonstrate to him how wrong he was.

I stopped my job when I found out I was pregnant so that I could devote my time and energy to being a mother and a wife. The decision that I made was supported by my husband, Victor, who stated that it was in the long run beneficial for our child.

All went well with my pregnancy. I did not experience any significant difficulties, which meant that I was still able to move around without any discomfort. On a regular basis, I went to the market, prepared extravagant meals, and even made sure that the house was pristine. I got almost fanatical about keeping things tidy, and my nesting instincts began to kick in around the second trimester of my pregnancy.

One evening, as Victor entered our living room, which had been recently polished, he told me, “Our house has never looked this good before.” And with a smile on his face, he bent down and kissed me on the cheek. “We are grateful to you for ensuring that everything is in order for us.”

Hearing him say that made me have a pleasant feeling within. It was not simple, but the fact that he appreciated it made it worthwhile. It was until I gave delivery at 39 weeks that I continued with that pattern.

At the moment when our daughter, Lily, entered the world, everything underwent a transformation. I had previously believed that I had a good understanding of what love was, but when she was placed in my arms, I realized that I had been mistaken. It was as though the entire world was converging on the small human being breathing on my chest. For everything, including every feeding, every cry, and every diaper change, she required my assistance. Everything else was irrelevant.

On the other hand, Victor had the impression that I was accomplishing less. The laundry was stacking up, the dinners were becoming monotonous, and there was clutter that had not been there while I was pregnant. He noticed all of these things.

One evening, as he was reheating leftovers, he said with a scowl, “Why has the house become so messy?” Additionally, we have been consuming the same cuisine for the past three days in a row.

At the same time as I was adjusting Lily in my arms, I stated, “I do not have the time to cook something new every day.” Continuously, she sheds tears. Vic, she is suffering from colic. Everything she wants is to be held at all times. Whenever I put her in the crib, she shrieks in delight. I don’t even have time to take a shower.”

With a sigh, Victor shook his head and sighed. It is okay for her to remain in the crib for a time. During the time that she is inside, you could get things done around the house. You won’t have to wait that long.”

That was the instant that I lost my cool. Therefore, why don’t you give it a shot? Exhaustion and pain caused my voice to crack as I yelled out in frustration. “Are you aware of what it is like to breastfeed your child every two hours, sleep for little more than a few hours, and still attempt to function? To what extent are you aware of how exhausting it is when she starts crying the moment I set her down? Simply put, I do not have any time left over to accomplish anything else!

At that moment, he retorted, “What are you saying?” I spend the entire day at work. The house is a mess, and there are leftovers when I get home. Obviously, I am feeling frustrated. It’s time to stop hiding behind the baby and come clean about how lazy you are.

His remarks were as sharp as knives. The tears began to well up in my eyes, and I averted my gaze. I hushed, “That hurt,” as I made my way into our bedroom before he could witness me breaking down so drastically.

As I laid there, silently crying, I made sure that Lily was sleeping on my chest. Despite the fact that Victor provided us with financial support, he was rarely at home. And while he was, he almost never assisted me with Lily, with the exception of changing her diaper in a hurry if I wanted to take a shower. There was no way for him to know what my days were like. The evenings in which I only received forty minutes of sleep in between feedings, the hours that I spent pacing the floor with Lily crying in my arms, and the loneliness that I experienced as a result of being locked inside the house with no adult interaction were all things that he did not see.

I had the sudden realization that no matter what I said, he would never comprehend what I was saying. The difference between his perception and my reality cannot be bridged via the use of words. It was necessary for him to experience it firsthand if he ever wanted to see it.

On a Saturday afternoon, the opportunity presented itself. Sitting on his chest, Lily was sound asleep, her little hands curled up close to his shirt. After gently kissing her on the forehead, I silently made my way downstairs. On the counter in the kitchen, I left a note that read:

“I will be returning in a week with the intention of going on vacation. There is milk in the refrigerator for Lily.

After turning off my phone, I went ahead and got my overnight bag, which I had covertly prepared earlier, and then I walked out of the room.

I decided to take a trip to the coast at the last minute. I gave myself permission to do things that I had not done in months, such as sleeping in, walking barefoot on the sand, reading novels by the pool, and eating cuisine that I had not prepared myself. Nothing made me feel guilty. I was in need of this.

I can only wonder how shocked Victor must have been when he awoke and found the note in his possession. Later on, he expressed his anger to me, but he said that he had no other option but to take care of Lily. On such short notice, there were no babysitters available, and the cost of hiring a nanny was beyond our financial means.

It was the first night that almost broke him. All of this was done when he was running on almost no sleep at all. He changed diapers, warmed bottles, burped her, and washed her.

In the middle of the second night, he yelled into the air, “I now understand!” All you need to do is return home!

But I was not going to return home. Not at this time.

At the time that Lily was born, I had already set up baby monitors all over the home, and they were connected to an application that I had on my tablet. I was quite a distance away, yet I was still able to sneak a glance inside. Every single thing that I had attempted to convey to him was validated by what I saw: Victor was drowning. There was a heap of dishes in the sink. Bags of takeout were strewn across the counters. Nobody had ever seen him cook. Some nights, Lily would cry for hours, and I would see him pacing the same floor that I did, bouncing her around in an attempt to calm her down.

By Wednesday, he had completely lost it. Even though he was exhausted, he called his mother and his voice cracked.

“Mom, I beg you to assist me. Jamie is now away on vacation and has just left a note for me. Because I haven’t slept in days. I am unable to complete this task.”

It was through the monitor that I was able to hear the shrill retort of my mother-in-law. “How utterly reckless! This is the kind of woman who would desert her spouse and child in such a manner. The duties of a wife include homemaking and the upbringing of children. In the event that she is unable to deal with it, she should not have gotten married!

I was on the verge of laughing at her hypocrisy. During the time that Victor was a young child, she was the same woman who had employed two au pairs. She had never been responsible for the nighttime feedings or the never-ending diaper changes. It was not appropriate for her to label me as irresponsible.

Victor was able to make it through the rest of the week, but only just. He appeared to be a ghost when he went to work, with his eyelids heavy and his tie twisted. One day, he phoned in ill in order to get some rest and recuperation. I was able to see the toll that it was having on him, but Lily was doing well—she was fed, changed, and cared for.

When I did finally come back, I was half expecting him to blow up inside. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me for such a long time that I could feel his heartbeat pounding against mine.

He said, “I’m sorry, Jamie,” with a deep and raw tone in his voice. “I was unable to comprehend. It occurred to me that… What I was thinking is a mystery to me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Despite the fact that you go through a lot on a daily basis, I continued to expect more from you. Are you able to forgive me?

As I retreated, I turned my attention to him. This was the first time in weeks that his eyes had been clear, despite the fact that they were fatigued. He was aware of it. He was a witness to it.

He made a commitment, saying, “I promise I’ll be a better partner.” “Abundantly present. To a greater use. The two of you, Lily, are deserving of that and so much more.

If only I could have believed him. I believe that, on some level, I did.

On the other hand, his apologies did not make the hurtful words that my mother-in-law had spoken go away. It continued to play over and over in my head, even when I was least expecting it to. Was she correct in her assessment? Was it really my responsibility to raise our child and take care of the house by myself? Alternately, should marriage and parenthood be viewed as equal partnerships, with shared obligations rather than burdens that are borne by one partner?

I was aware of the response. Being a parent is not a solitary endeavor. It is neither the work of a husband nor the job of a wife. Both are true. In the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning, bottles and burps, tears and lullabies are shared rather than separated.

And despite the fact that Victor eventually comprehended the situation, I continue to wonder how many women are out there who are bearing the burden of everything and quietly crumbling under the pressure, all the while the society considers them to be “lazy.”

Due to the fact that there is no such thing as being lazy when it comes to parenthood.