Her Honest Space

What happens to your relationship when baby arrives? This post gently explores the disconnect many couples face — and how to move through it. And how I’m gently learning to rebuild connection again.

When I became a mum, I knew life would change — nappies, sleepless nights, new routines. But what I wasn’t prepared for was how much it would shift my relationship.

I remember seeing other couples before I had a baby — emotionally distant, living more like flatmates. Some admitted they were only staying together for the kids. I spoke to my partner about it before our son arrived, saying:

“I don’t want that to be us.”

And we meant it. We promised to protect what we had.

But love in survival mode is different. And from what I’ve learned, I’m not the only mum who’s felt this shift.

💭 We said we’d protect our connection – But then came exhaustion

Once our baby was born, everything blurred. My partner went back to work. The nights stretched endlessly, the days rolled into one another. We kept saying:

“Once there’s a routine… once he sleeps through… once he’s in his cot… then we’ll find time for us again.”

But time slipped. And while we weren’t arguing, we weren’t really connecting either.

My hormones were everywhere. I was still in recovery, and during those rare quiet moments when the baby finally slept, I just wanted to switch off from everything — and that included my partner. It was confusing. I longed to feel loved and held, but at the same time I wanted to be left alone. Talking about our relationship felt impossible.

At the same time, I was silently fighting a different battle. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. My body felt foreign — every curve, every change reminded me of what I had lost. I avoided photos, and if I did appear in one, I deleted it before anyone could see. It wasn’t just about how I looked; it was about who I was. My sense of identity was slipping, and I felt like I was fading out of my own story.

🧠 Learning to understand myself again

I didn’t know how to express what I needed. Some days I didn’t even know what I needed. I felt disconnected from myself — from the woman I was before motherhood — and I hoped, almost desperately, that my partner would just know.

He didn’t. And that added to the ache.

But I also know he was struggling. He wanted to help, but he was learning how to be a dad while trying to support me and carry the weight of providing for our family. I know he saw me struggling, even if he didn’t always know how to reach me.

The truth is, I blamed myself. I thought I should’ve been stronger. I thought I should’ve known how to hold onto us. I thought if I could just get it together, things would feel easier. Instead, I carried the guilt — for the tension, for the silence, for the distance I couldn’t seem to close.

And I realised I’m not the only one who’s felt this ache — these words from Jessica Urlichs capture it so well:

“ They say the trenches can bring you closer, although it takes some time. But the light is very hard to see, when there is so far out to climb.

These early years of giving as a father, and a mother. Remembering all the things and forgetting about each other.” – Jessica Urlichs (Beautiful Chaos)

Those words captured exactly where I was — caught between love and loneliness, trying to hold everything together while feeling us drift apart.

😔 The Drift You Don’t Talk About- Silent Resentment

No one talks about how easily resentment sneaks in when you’re stretched thin.

For me, it was quiet. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I kept it in, almost as if part of me thought I didn’t deserve more. Looking back, I can see how hard I was on myself — but at the time, the silence only deepened the ache.

When I began co-sleeping with our son, my partner struggled to rest and still get up for work. Eventually, we started sleeping separately — him in the spare room, me and our baby in the main bedroom.

On paper, it made sense. In reality, it pulled us further apart. At night, the loneliness felt heavier. I wanted to wake him for support, but I stopped myself because I didn’t want him to be exhausted for work. That’s where the resentment crept in: I was protecting him while wishing he could protect me too.

This is what silent resentment looked like for me — not shouting or slamming doors, but quiet moments that cut deep.

“I remember pacing the room, trying to soothe my son through another night struggle, tears silently streaming because I felt like a failure for not being able to settle him. Hearing my partner snoring in the other room, I wanted to wake him — but I stopped myself, wanting him to have a good rest. In that moment, I felt completely alone.”

And I know I’m not alone in that feeling. So many mums quietly hold both — the love and the loneliness, the gratitude and the ache — all at the same time.

“Even in the hardest nights, I never doubted our love. But love without connection can ache in ways you don’t expect.”

👫🏽 “ That’s just what happens…” – But should it be?

As I started sharing my feelings with other mums — especially those further down the road — I heard something often:

“Unfortunately, that’s just normal after kids.”

Or worse: “We’re only still together for the children.”

At first, I thought maybe this was just part of motherhood. The long nights. The distance. The drift. I even realised that many couples sleep separately in those early months — and in some ways, that’s normal. Some couples keep their bond strong with date nights, little check-ins, and reminders that they’re still us as well as mum and dad.

But for others, the separation becomes permanent. They never quite find their way back to the same bed — or to each other.

The more I listened, the more I realised that while the intention is often to create stability, staying together just for the kids can have its own cost.

Kids feel the tension. They absorb the silence. And when they grow up watching a relationship without connection, it becomes their model for love.

And it’s also unfair to both parents. Staying in something that doesn’t nurture you — or limits your growth — can slowly erode your self-worth, your mental health, and your hope.

That’s when it hit me — I didn’t want our story to quietly become one of distance. Even admitting that out loud felt like a first step back toward us.

“Still, I held onto the hope that we could find our way back — even if I didn’t yet know how.”

❤️‍🩹 I’m just beginning the journey to rebuild connection

We’re not all the way there. Some days it still feels clumsy, and I know there will be setbacks. But I’ve realised I don’t need to have all the answers to start. I just need to take one small step — and then another.

Here’s what I’m learning along the way:

• Emotional check-ins matter – Even five minutes of honest talk — “How are you really?” — can shift the whole mood of a day.
• Releasing blame (especially towards myself) creates space for us both to breathe.
• Understanding me again helps me show up with more clarity, instead of waiting for my partner to read my mind.
• Flirting and showing appreciation feels awkward at first after so much distance, but even small gestures build warmth.
• Reconnection won’t look the same as before kids — and that’s okay. What we have now can be different, and still beautiful.

I don’t have a perfect roadmap, but maybe connection isn’t about perfection at all. Maybe it’s about choosing each other again, one small choice at a time.

Because the truth is, rebuilding connection isn’t just my story — it’s something so many of us are quietly navigating. And the more we talk about it, the less alone we all feel.

✨Let’s Talk, Honestly…

If you’re feeling something similar, I want you to know you’re not alone.

Motherhood can stretch everything — even love.

“If this is where you are right now, please know — connection can bend, stretch, and even drift, but it doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

I’d love to hear what it’s been like for you and your partner after becoming parents. What has helped? What’s felt hard? Let’s talk about the real stuff — the quiet spaces in between.

💬 Share your thoughts in the comments — your words might be exactly what another mum needs to read today. 🕊️ And if this resonated, subscribe so you don’t miss more honest conversations like this one.