Things are different now. I'm a mom. I'm (mostly) the sole care-provider of our child for 20 hours of the day, you contribute your time for 4... and that's if you come home on time AND if all your other hobbies don't keep you busy once your home.

I barely want to kiss. I barely want sex. Everything you do, and don't do, bothers me. I expected more from you. You knew how I felt about our surprise pregnancy. You knew how I felt about giving up my dreams, my body, and my life, for our child.

I love our son. I love him so fiercely and wonderfully. He is everything I never knew I had wanted. He is the embodiment of what was our love.

But you. I want to be in love you again, I know we could. And this is not to say I don't love you, but I love you like family... because that's what we are now. But in order for us to stay afloat, we need to love like a couple, with passion.

Maybe I had just expected too much, had my hopes set too high. When you couldn't meet them I took them as a slight.

But you haven't been perfect. I slept 6 hours in two days (after labor at the hospital) because our DS wouldn't sleep. Finally, after letting you sleep more one night than I had our whole stay, I asked you to hold him for just an hour, just so I could sleep. I let you lay in the hospital bed, while I took the couch. About 10 mins later I glance over and you're asleep with our son. After waking you and telling you that you can't fall asleep with him in your arms, that he could get hurt, you did it again. I wake you up, take our son, and sit back down. You had the audacity to say that you needed just a few more hours to function properly.

What about the nights you don't come home until late and don't bother telling me you're doing so or when our son cries at night and you just roll over and sleep. What about every other little thing I've addressed that remains the same?

What about us?