I Realized that Everything Changed in my Marriage And It Was Destroying Me the Day I Came Home After Delivery and Started Cooking With Stitches Still Fresh”
The first time my husband threatened me with divorce, I was standing in the kitchen holding my newborn baby while trying not to cry.
I remember looking at him in shock, wondering how we had reached this point so quickly. Just months earlier, I believed I was marrying someone who genuinely cared about me. He had chosen me himself. He talked softly, acted protective, and made me feel special in the beginning.
That version of him disappeared faster than I expected.
Even today, I cannot decide whether my marriage was arranged or love marriage. My husband saw me once, liked me, sent a proposal, and our families agreed almost immediately. Everything seemed simple and easy at first.
But the truth is, problems had already started long before the wedding.
His mother never truly wanted me as her daughter-in-law.
She wanted someone more impressive.
A doctor.
Someone richer.
Someone she could proudly show off to relatives.
And I was just a finance student.
My parents never demanded anything from them. They openly said, “Whatever amount you think is fine for wedding is okay with us.” There was no pressure, no greed, no drama from our side.
Still, his mother constantly complained.
The gifts were not enough.
The jewelry was not enough.
The clothes were not enough.
Nothing was ever enough.
At first I thought maybe she was just difficult by nature, but later I realized something painful: she was trying to make the relationship fail before marriage even happened.
But the wedding still took place.
Three days after the wedding, my husband left me with his family and went away for work. That was the moment my real married life began.
And honestly, it felt like walking into a trap I never saw coming.
My mother-in-law started insulting me almost daily.
“Your family did not give enough.”
“We expected better.”
“I never even liked you.”
Sometimes she directly told me she kept searching for other girls because she wanted someone else for her son.
There is something deeply humiliating about hearing that repeatedly while living inside someone’s house.
Especially when you entered that house sincerely, hoping to build a peaceful life.
I had never experienced rejection like that before. I grew up confident. I had received many proposals before marriage, but I always believed marriage should feel respectful and emotionally safe.
Instead, I entered a family where I constantly felt unwanted.
At first my husband defended me sometimes. He would argue with his family for me or tell me not to take things seriously.
Back then, I thought that was enough.
I did not realize temporary support means nothing when someone eventually starts behaving exactly like the people hurting you.
Later, I moved to the UAE with him and started working there. Life became exhausting almost immediately. I managed the house, traveled hours daily through metro stations, worked full office hours, and still handled every responsibility at home alone.
Then I became pregnant.
Even during pregnancy, I continued working because we needed money and because I believed we were building a future together.
Every month I gave my entire salary to my husband without questioning anything. I trusted him completely.
At that stage, he still acted caring enough that I ignored many warning signs.
Then my son was born.
I left my job because I could not imagine handing my baby to a nanny all day. Later my office offered me work-from-home with reduced salary, and I accepted immediately.
That money became my children’s survival fund.
Diapers.
Milk.
Medicine.
Baby clothes.
Every small thing.
Meanwhile, my husband slowly started complaining that I no longer gave him all my salary like before.
What hurt me most was not the money itself.
It was the fact that he never once asked whether I needed anything for myself.
Not during pregnancy.
Not after childbirth.
Not even when I stopped working completely.
Then he brought his mother to live with us.
Officially, it was because I occasionally needed to visit the office. Unofficially, it felt like my home was no longer mine at all.
The expenses for bringing her there were also taken from me.
“You are the reason she is coming,” I was told.
So I paid quietly.
But after she arrived, everything became worse.
Whenever I left the room, conversations about me started. Later my husband would suddenly become angry over things I never even said.
“Why did you disrespect my mother?”
“Why are you rude to her?”
“You hurt her feelings.”
I spent most of my days emotionally drained and physically exhausted.
My routine became brutal.
Wake up early.
Prepare breakfast.
Handle office work.
Feed the baby.
Cook for everyone.
Serve my mother-in-law.
Clean the house.
Wash clothes.
Iron clothes.
Sleep for a few hours.
Wake up and repeat everything again.
There were days I felt so tired my body physically hurt.
Then I found out I was pregnant again.
And instead of feeling happy, I broke down crying.
Not because I did not want another baby.
But because I already felt mentally and physically destroyed.
My second pregnancy was much harder. I barely received emotional support. My health became weaker because everyone else’s needs always came before mine. At one point doctors even became concerned about the baby’s growth.
Still, nobody around me changed their expectations.
Before delivery, I prepared everything in advance because I did not want anyone inconvenienced later. I cooked and froze meals. Cleaned the house. Organized clothes. Ironed my husband’s outfits.
I thought maybe if I handled everything perfectly, life would finally become peaceful.
But peace never came.
The day I returned home after delivery still feels unreal when I think about it.
I had stitches.
My entire body was in pain.
I could barely walk properly.
Yet within hours of reaching home, I put my newborn baby down and walked into the kitchen because my older son was hungry and nobody else was going to feed him.
Not one person told me to rest.
Not one person said, “We will handle things today.”
That moment changed something inside me permanently.
After that, I cried almost every day.
Tiny things triggered emotional breakdowns.
Some nights I sat awake silently while everyone else slept, wondering how a woman can feel completely alone inside her own marriage.
And during arguments, my husband repeated the same words again and again.
“Leave.”
“I will divorce you.”
“Go back to your parents.”
At night, with two children beside me, where exactly was I supposed to go?
So I stayed.
And slowly lost myself instead.
Eventually I came back to my country for a break because I desperately needed emotional rest. But even from another country, the arguments continued.
The same threats.
The same anger.
The same emotional pressure.
Sometimes fights even became physical.
That was the part I never imagined would happen in my marriage.
But honestly, the worst part is not even the fighting anymore.
It is realizing how emotionally empty I have become.
I was doing everything.
Working.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Raising children.
Managing expenses.
Running the entire house.
Yet somehow I was still treated as if I contributed nothing.
If I bought something for the children, I was wasting money.
If I became tired, I was complaining too much.
If I cried, I was dramatic.
Meanwhile, he rarely bought things for the kids himself. Clothes, diapers, toys, medicine — most of it came from me.
And when he became angry, even the children were affected by his temper.
That hurt me more than anything.
A woman can tolerate pain directed at herself for years.
But watching her children absorb anger changes something inside her forever.
People often ask women why they stay in unhappy marriages for so long.
The answer is complicated.
Sometimes they stay because of children.
Sometimes because they are scared.
Sometimes because they still hope things will improve.
And sometimes because they become so emotionally exhausted that making any decision feels impossible.
I know I was not perfect either. There were days I answered back. Days I lost patience. Days I became emotionally overwhelmed.
But I was carrying too much alone for too many years.
Eventually even strong people break quietly.
And honestly, I think I have reached that point now.
The saddest part is not the insults anymore.
Not the threats.
Not even the fights.
It is the fact that I no longer feel anything for the man I once trusted with my entire life.
I look at him now and feel tired instead of safe.
And that realization hurts more than everything else combined.
Thank you for being here. What advice would you give to someone emotionally exhausted in marriage?
