We always say every child is different — how true! But there’s another truth we rarely acknowledge: every mother is different too.
So why are we still measured against the same old rulebook of motherhood, passed down through generations?

This rulebook insists that every mother is giving, perfect, selfless, nurturing, and filled with instant love for her baby — all while effortlessly shedding her old identity.
But the truth couldn’t be farther from that. And I only realized this after going through the journey myself.

When my son was born — slightly before his due date — he needed extra care and attention. My husband and I did our best to balance my job with our new responsibilities, but it just didn’t work out.
We tried our luck with nannies, but that didn’t work either.
We weren’t in favor of having our child raised primarily by his grandparents — though that’s a discussion for another day.

What I want to talk about today is something more unexpected. A feeling that completely caught me off guard in the early days of motherhood.
I began to resent the love of my life — my husband, my partner.

And there wasn’t one clear reason I could point to. I just… despised him in that phase.
The fights. The arguments. They became routine.

I loved my baby. I loved my husband.
But the newness of that phase — it was overwhelming. I was sleep-deprived.
My lifestyle had flipped overnight. I had left a fulfilling job to stay home with my baby — a decision we made together, and yet, I often used it as my #1 argument in every conflict.

I unknowingly became the “default parent.” The one who always knew when the next feed was due, which diaper cream to use, where the extra bibs were kept. It wasn’t a formal decision — it just happened. And with that, the weight of every tiny responsibility slowly piled up. That silent mental load, mixed with exhaustion, turned into frustration. And guess who I unloaded it all on? My partner.

I am not saying, I was unreasonable all the time. But I had my fair share. In that phase, I overlooked the tiredness of my partner sometimes because I wanted mine to be seen first. Yes, we both made changes thereafter. He started making extra efforts to reduce my load and slowly things started changing.

My husband is a patient man. The way he handled me — and the fact that we’re not divorced yet — is a testament to that.

Fast forward to today: that phase is behind me.
I took counseling. I wrote. I meditated. Most importantly, I could talk to my partner (and he to me) through it all — without being judged.

Now, looking back, I realize that this phase isn’t unique to me.
So many women go through it — overwhelmed, overtired, confused — while living through the most beautiful and chaotic chapter of their lives.

But I often wonder:

Do all women get the support they need in that time?
Does their marriage survive the test?
Do they ever feel like themselves again?