I recently had a baby with my husband Owen.
We couldn’t be happier to have a child in our lives and our families have always been there for us. I expected the birth to be easy because the pregnancy was going well, but I did not anticipate the level of suffering.
I don’t think Owen was either because he kept repeating my rants.
A whirlwind of emotions ran through me as I sat across from Owen in the dark living room and our newborn son Liam was fast asleep in the next room. Just a week ago, Owen was by my side when I was in deep labor in the hospital.
Anyway, the memory annoyed me. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage and thoughts to face what happened during the birth.
“Owen, we need to talk about what happened at the hospital,” I said in a firm but gentle tone. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes when they met mine. He nodded, which I interpreted as permission to continue. “Remember I told you to stop screaming when I was in the delivery room? I was embarrassing you, you claimed.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, which I interpreted as recognition. “Yes, I remember,” he said carefully, but a little regretfully.
I hesitated, allowing his confirmation to linger in our shared space. In a harder voice, I said, “I want you to understand how those words made me feel.” “Owen, I was in so much pain. While I was trying to conceive our child, all you could think about was how embarrassed you were.”
It wasn’t the answer I expected from him. Instead of expressing sympathy or even apology, my husband’s expression turned stern and his voice grew angry. “A woman’s job is to listen to her husband, and you could have been quieter during labor!” he snapped. I admit that I was taken aback by my husband’s tone, which is typically kind and considerate.
His answer took me so by surprise that I got angry. How could the father of my child, the man I loved, be so heartless? Underneath the fury, however, I also felt nervousness and embarrassment. When we committed to helping each other through life’s obstacles, it wasn’t the relationship I envisioned.
“Owen,” I continued, sobbing uncontrollably, “do you believe that? To save you suffering, my suffering and labor should be silenced?”
He just looked at me. This was one of the first times I wasn’t able to read my husband’s mind.
I rose to my feet, completely repulsed by what I had just heard him say. I went upstairs to the master bedroom and pulled our baby out of the crib. I spent most of the day there, keeping the door closed to keep Owen from coming inside. It wasn’t until I heard him start the car and leave for the evening to see his friends that I opened the door one more time.
That day helped me understand Owen’s character a little better. I didn’t like what I saw of him; it was his other side. After all the time we spent together, I knew I still loved him. However, I had to show him that I wasn’t there just to follow his instructions. So I used the time I had to myself to come up with a plan to get him to see me as more than just his servant. And I needed support from my family.
Owen was nervous and I could tell when we went to my parents for dinner a week later. He knew this wasn’t your average family dinner. He must have sensed something was wrong. My family didn’t realize the conflict between us and greeted us warmly and showed us how much they loved and cared for us.
Laughter and discussion filled the dining room table. Stories were told and the smell of mother’s cooking filled the room. Everyone was delighted to be able to join us in celebrating the birth of the baby. I invited my sisters to talk about their own birth experiences during the evening. Owen was to hear other women’s birth stories and compare them to ours.
My sisters spoke of suffering, happiness, and most of all the unwavering support they received from their husbands. Their testimonies depicted spouses who were present not only physically but also emotionally, providing support and understanding and cultivating partnership and mutual respect.
Owen listened in silence, his recent intransigence giving way to careful listening. I could see how their comments affected him, how they made him realize what he hadn’t noticed in his position during our birth. It was a pivotal moment for him and my goal was for him to allow us to get back to where we were before.
Owen sat quietly while everyone around the table told stories. I watched as his eyebrows drew together and his face darkened. It looked like he blinked a tear at one point, I swear. I began to wonder if it was the best idea to knock him out this way. That would just look bad and alienate us even more, wouldn’t it?
I looked at Owen when it was my turn to tell my story. There was obvious regret in his eyes. It’s like he’s resigned to being publicly humiliated. I immediately realized that I did not want my marriage to continue this way.
So instead of recounting the pain and disappointment, I decided to highlight the wonderful things Owen did for me during my pregnancy and skip the parts where I was actually in labor. “Owen was kind and supportive the whole time I was carrying little Liam,” I told my relatives.
It may not be an outright lie, but a falsehood of omission. However, I meant what I said.
I informed them of Owen’s daily help and how he rubbed my sore feet. Owen stared at me with the same love he always had in his eyes and my family loved the stories. He pulled me aside when we went to dinner. He apologized profusely and assured me that he would never treat me like a servant again. “I’m sorry Sarah. I realized how much I still have to learn tonight. I promise to be a better partner and husband to you.”
It was a peaceful journey home, full of introspection and the soothing sound of music. Liam was already sound asleep as he lay on his back. I had trouble letting go of the decision I made with my parents. Was I right to keep Owen from learning the whole truth about what he had done?
I felt good that night watching him sleep. I believed him. Owen was sorry. It was clear that he wanted to change. My decision to choose empathy over conflict gave us both an opportunity to move forward and strengthen the foundations of our family and our relationship. It was about choosing a future where we grow as a team and learn from our mistakes, not about forgetting the past.
But would you accept your husband’s actions? Would you allow him to defend his behavior in front of the whole family or otherwise? Tell us on Facebook!
This is another story about a 16-year-old boy who came with a newborn that you might be interested in.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I had to leave him,” says the 16-year-old son, who brings the child home.
After our acrimonious divorce, my life changed unexpectedly. Josh, our child, had a desire to unite our broken family, which seemed both stretched and desperate when I became a single mother to him. However, the universe has a special way of making children’s dreams come true; in our case, an unexpected event proved it.
One day, Josh came home with a newborn baby in his arms; the child represented both a bridge over difficult waters and a whole host of new difficulties for which none of us were prepared.
If we go back in time, our family used to have some really happy times together. However, this structure of family unity was torn apart by divorce and Derek’s subsequent departure to start a new life with someone else. Josh’s relationship with his father has withstood the upheaval, a testament to the purity of childhood love, untouched by the difficulties of adult relationships.
My son expressed anxiety about meeting Derek’s new partner, Sylvia, which made bringing back the past much more meaningful.
When Derek referred to Sylvia as Josh’s “new mom” it was an extreme example of his insensitivity that infuriated me. It was a slap in the face that this phrase was casually thrown into the discourse, ignoring the years of love, effort, and attention I put into raising Josh. My first thought was to cut off all contact between my son and his father to protect him from further harm.
When Sylvia, who was pregnant and abandoned by Derek, reached out to Josh at her most vulnerable moment, things took a turn for the worse. The thought of Josh holding Andrew, his half-brother, Sylvia’s child, made me feel something, even as the doubts and old grudges that haunted me returned. Josh’s unwavering determination to uphold his brother’s honor was a challenge to take on a role I hadn’t expected.
The turning point for me was Josh’s request to adopt Andrew once he was of age. It was an attempt to see how much love, understanding,g and forgiveness I could muster. In stark contrast to Derek’s absence and carelessness, his actions demonstrated his maturity and sense of duty.
We finally decided to start a new chapter in our lives when we decided to adopt Andrew. Josh hadn’t envisioned a family reunion like this, but compassion, resilience, and an unpredictable turn of events brought the family together in a way that was unified.
It was too late when Derek finally tried to get back into our lives to ask for forgiveness and participate in Andrew’s development. Despite being unconventional and raised on hardships, our family has struck a balance.
Josh, who is now Andrew’s father, and Emma, his partner, gave Andrew the stability and love he needed, showing that family is defined by commitment and love rather than blood.
Looking back on our journey, I notice how strong we are when we overcome life’s unexpected obstacles. It’s the story of a family who, in the face of adversity, reinvented themselves by moving forward with love, optimism, and an unwavering commitment to each other rather than falling back into their old ways.
Reflecting on these events, it is clear that our journey was far from conventional. The confrontation with Owen and the subsequent family dinner revealed both the fractures and the bonds in our relationship. My choice to shield Owen from the full weight of his actions was not about excusing his behavior, but about fostering an environment where healing and understanding could flourish.
In the end, Owen’s sincere apology and his promise to be a better partner put my mind at ease. Our journey home was peaceful, marked by a renewed sense of hope and a quiet determination to move forward together. It was a reminder that every relationship has its trials, but the strength of our bond is truly defined by our willingness to learn, grow, and support each other.
This experience taught me that empathy and communication are essential to navigating the complexities of love and marriage. It’s not about pretending everything is perfect, it’s about overcoming our differences with compassion and determination.
As we look to the future, I am confident that Owen and I will continue to grow together, stronger and more united. Our family, now with Liam, represents a new beginning where we value each other’s support and strive to build a life full of understanding and love.
Would you have handled the situation differently? Share your thoughts with us on Facebook. And if you enjoyed this story, check out another heartwarming story about a mother’s startling discovery when her teenage son brings home a newborn. It’s a testament to how love and resilience can redefine the meaning of family.