Pregnant, tired and invisible

Some days, my husband feels like the kindest, most thoughtful person on earth — and other days, he turns into someone completely unrecognizable: insensitive, dismissive, even hurtful. I’m five months pregnant, and despite carrying our second child, I manage the entire household alone. I pick up and drop off our daughter, who’s nearly six, handle all the chores, cook, clean, and take care of everything — all while dealing with swollen ankle from an old trimalleolar fracture that still affects me to this day.

At 35, this pregnancy hasn’t been easy. My bump is bigger, I get tired faster, and yet the weekends offer no relief. I don’t expect much on weekdays because of his demanding job, but even when he’s home, our disagreements and his lack of support leave me completely drained. What’s worse, I worry about the message our daughter is receiving — that it’s a woman’s job to do everything at home, while the man gets to opt out. I do all this with love, yes, but I’m also so much more than a homemaker. I’m a writer, a journalist, a woman full of ideas and ambition. And yet, lately, I feel reduced to just one role.

The other day he said I know nothing about saving money because I don’t earn a salary — as if my contributions hold no value. He criticizes me for updating my parents about what’s going on with my in-laws which is not even true, while he spends hours talking to his own family on weekends (which is okay with me but not while I’m cooking, laying the table and sweating and handling our daughter too). I don’t even feel comfortable calling my parents when he’s around because they fear it’ll upset him. Everything — from our daughter’s schoolwork to bedtime routines — falls on me. She likes sleeping while hugging someone, but after two minutes with her, he sends her back saying he’s tired and needs to sleep.

Having this baby was a mutual decision, one that took convincing . I agreed, largely because my daughter longed for a sibling. But deep down, I feared this very outcome: that I’d be left to do everything alone, again. And now that it’s happening, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed. I love this baby already, and I’m excited to meet them — but I’m also bracing myself for postpartum depression. And it terrifies me.

These last few days, I haven’t been well. I’ve been crying more, eating less. His words have been cutting deeply — comments about our daughter, comparisons with cousins, his coldness toward my emotional needs — it’s all getting to me. I feel like I’m vanishing… like I’ll never get to meet this version of myself again. That my identity is slipping away, and no one even notices.

Maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe I’m just plain exhausted. Either way, I’m drowning — emotionally, mentally, physically. And I don’t know how to pull myself back.

Sorry for the long post, I don’t want to worry my family and friends by telling them what I’ve been going through lately!

I wish I didn’t get married! 😞

ETA: I wrote this in the middle of an emotional meltdown—my hormones are all over the place! I know I only mentioned what he isn’t doing, and yes, there are things he does do. But somehow, expectations have a way of letting you down.