I Resent My Husband for a Comment He Made 2 Years Ago, and I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over It.

Marriage is full of highs and lows, and some moments—though brief—can leave a lasting impact that reverberates through the years. For this woman, a single comment from her husband two years ago continues to affect her deeply. Despite improvements in their situation, the resentment she feels lingers, and it’s casting a shadow over their relationship. Here’s her story:

When our first baby was born five years ago, life felt manageable. I transitioned into motherhood with ease, and my husband and I agreed that I would stay home to raise our child. I genuinely enjoyed it. But everything changed when our second child was born 2.5 years ago. The overwhelming weight of caring for two young children, combined with the isolation of lacking family support, pushed me to the brink of exhaustion and despair.

My family lives across the country, and most of my husband’s family is no longer around. I thought things would get easier as our youngest, who is still a very clingy child, grew older, but life only became more overwhelming. Two months after our second baby was born, a friend—who had just left an abusive relationship—moved in with us. While they were wonderful and respectful, they didn’t have a car, so I took on the responsibility of driving them to and from work. My husband helped once or twice, but because he dislikes driving at night, I had to handle all the late-night pick-ups.

Our friend worked a shift that overlapped with my husband’s long work hours—he worked from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m.—so I would take our friend to work around 3 p.m. and pick them up at 11 p.m., sometimes getting home close to midnight. Between taking care of a newborn, a toddler, managing our household, and driving our friend to work, I was stretched to my limit.

To make matters worse, my days began at 5 a.m. because I would wake up to help my husband get ready for work—something that, according to him, improved his day. Afterward, I’d sleep for an hour before getting up with the kids, and the rest of my day was spent juggling childcare, my schoolwork, and household chores. Despite my best efforts, I was drowning in responsibilities, and I started to nap whenever the kids did just to survive the sleep deprivation.

I begged my husband to help more, especially by picking up our friend when he wasn’t working the next day, but he always had excuses—he was too tired, or the lights from oncoming cars bothered him. My frustration with him began to build, and soon small bickering turned into intense arguments. One of the biggest points of contention was the state of our home.

My husband complained that the house was messy, claiming he was doing everything while I, in his eyes, slept or scrolled on my phone (which I only did while breastfeeding). He was frustrated, and he told me he felt like I wasn’t pulling my weight. To be fair, he helped with the kids when he was home and did some cooking and outside chores, but the bulk of the housework and childcare was on me. I did the cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring—all while taking care of a baby and a toddler. To make him understand how much I was doing, I wrote out my daily schedule, showing him every task, down to bathroom breaks. When he realized that I often didn’t eat until 3 p.m. because I was so overwhelmed, he finally apologized.

We’ve worked through most of these issues since then. Our friend moved out after nine months, our children are older, and life is easier in some ways. But despite all the progress, I still harbor resentment toward my husband. I love him, but when I look at him, I can’t forget his words—that I was doing nothing. I no longer enjoy being a stay-at-home mom. I love my children more than anything, and I know it’s a privilege to be home with them, but I feel no joy in it anymore. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, trapped in a role that I once embraced.

Now, our house is clean, I’m getting about six hours of sleep a night, and dinner is on the table every evening, but I hate it. I escape through reading or going to the gym as often as I can just to feel like myself again. Even though my husband has apologized repeatedly, the bitterness is still there. He’s expressed wanting another child, but I can’t even imagine it. I don’t know if we’ll make it to our next anniversary.

As we approach our 6th wedding anniversary, I wish I could shake off this resentment. I want to go back in time, but I can’t. Even though we have happy moments together, this issue always resurfaces, weighing on my heart.

ETA: I do not plan to have another child, despite my husband’s hope that I will change my mind. I’m working on a four-year degree, and once both kids are in school, I should graduate, making it easier for me to find a full-time job. I’ve also started instructing one class a week at a local gym, which helps me feel a sense of usefulness and purpose.




Thanks for reading. I’m not entirely sure what I’m hoping to achieve by sharing this—maybe just a sense of relief. I don’t want to carry this resentment anymore, but I don’t know how to let it go. Do you have any advice? Let me know in the comments.



From an anonymous Reddit post,
https://tinyurl.com/4nmack7h