I Married My Best Friend… Then We Had Kids

The side of marriage after kids that nobody really prepares you for.

I truly did marry my best friend.

He was everything to me. He saw my good, my bad, and even my downright ugly—and accepted every bit of it. And I did the same for him.

Before kids, our nights were spent snuggled up on the couch, binge-watching our favorite show, with our golden retriever curled up perfectly in the bend of my knee. No interruptions. No one yelling "MOM!" from another room. No tiny humans needing a snack five minutes after dinner.

Just us.

It was peaceful. So incredibly peaceful.

And the funny thing is, we had absolutely no idea just how peaceful it really was.

Then, we decided to start a family.

A decision I would never, in a million years, take back.

Our kids are the absolute best parts of both of us wrapped into two tiny humans. I never knew I could love someone so fiercely, so completely, and so unconditionally. They are everything I never knew I needed.

But what nobody prepared me for was how that incredible love—and all the sacrifice that comes with it—would completely change my marriage.

I still have the same best friend.

Except now, he's also my coparent in what sometimes feels like a never-ending circus.

And let me tell you, that is a whole different ballgame.

We Thought We Were Different

Before having kids, if someone had told me our marriage would change, I probably would have laughed.

Not us.

We were solid. We were inseparable. We were each other's person. We genuinely loved spending time together, and our sex life was… well, TMI, but AMAZING.

I thought we had it figured out.

And then we had kids.

Don't get me wrong. I still love that man through and through. But having children has tested our marriage in ways I never could have imagined.

And honestly? It continues to test us.

We've always been complete opposites. In a lot of ways, that's what makes our relationship work. Where I lack, he makes up for it, and vice versa.

But as parents?

WOOF.

Those differences hit a little differently when you're both exhausted, overstimulated, and trying to keep two tiny humans alive, fed, somewhat clean, and emotionally stable.

As a mom, my brain is constantly running.

Did I schedule that appointment? Are we out of milk? Did I switch the laundry? What's for dinner? Did I respond to that daycare message? Are the kids getting enough attention? Am I doing enough? Am I being a good mom? A good wife?

It's never-ending.

And I know his brain is going too. He's carrying his own worries, responsibilities, and mental load.

The problem?

We aren't always great at communicating any of it.

So instead of working together, sometimes it feels like we're both silently drowning in our own to-do lists, wondering why the other person doesn't notice.

From Best Friends to Glorified Roommates

Some days, I swear we are just two glorified roommates trying to corral two tiny humans.

We divide and conquer. We handle dinner, baths, bedtime, dishes, laundry, and whatever other chaos the day throws at us.

By the time we finally crawl into bed, there's no romantic conversation. No cuddling up to watch our favorite show.

It's usually one exhausted sigh, a quick "goodnight," and a rollover.

Lights out.

And while I know so many families experience this exact same thing, can we just admit something?

It's freaking hard.

It's hard to miss someone who is literally standing right next to you.

It's hard to love someone so much but feel like you barely have the energy to connect with them.

It's hard to remember the couple you used to be when you're so consumed by the parents you've become.

I remember when being wrapped up in his arms felt like the safest, happiest place in the entire world.

Now?

By 8 p.m., I've been climbed on, pulled at, hugged, needed, and touched approximately 4,000 times.

The thought of starfishing in an empty bed with absolutely nobody touching me sounds like a five-star vacation.

And that makes me sad sometimes.

Not because I don't love him. Not because I don't want his affection.

But because motherhood can take so much out of you that, by the end of the day, you feel like there's nothing left to give.

Even to the person you once couldn't get enough of.

Nobody Talks About How Much You Change

I think one of the hardest parts of marriage after kids is realizing that you're not exactly the same people you were before.

And neither is your relationship.

Having children has brought out some of the most beautiful parts of us. I've watched my husband become a dad. I've seen a whole new side of him, and there are moments when I look at him with our kids and fall in love all over again.

But if I'm being real, having kids has also brought out parts of each other that we don't particularly like.

The impatience. The short tempers. The frustration. The resentment that can quietly build when one person feels like they're doing more than the other.

And communication?

HA.

Some days, it feels like we need a translator just to get through a conversation about who's handling bedtime.

I can be frustrated because I feel like I'm carrying everything mentally, while he can be frustrated because he feels like nothing he does is enough.

Neither of us is necessarily trying to hurt the other.

We're just tired.

We're trying to figure out how to be good parents, good partners, and somehow still be ourselves in the middle of it all.

And sometimes, we get it wrong.

Really wrong.

So, Where Does That Leave Us?

Here's what I'm slowly learning.

Marriage after kids isn't always about falling out of love. Sometimes it's about figuring out how to love each other in a completely different season of life.

The love is still there.

It's just buried under laundry piles, daycare drop-offs, work schedules, grocery lists, sleepless nights, and the never-ending mental checklist that comes with raising a family.

I don't think we need to go back to who we were before kids. As much as I miss those quiet nights on the couch, I wouldn't trade the life we've built for anything.

But I do think we need to remember that before we were Mom and Dad, we were us.

Two people who chose each other.

Two best friends who loved doing absolutely nothing together.

And those two people still deserve a little attention.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend we've figured it all out. We haven't. We still get frustrated. We still miscommunicate. We still have nights when we're too exhausted to give each other much more than a goodnight.

But we're still here.

Still learning. Still trying. Still choosing to show up, even when showing up looks a whole lot different than it used to.

Maybe right now, love isn't always long conversations on the couch or romantic nights together.

Maybe sometimes it's him taking over bedtime when he knows I've reached my limit. Maybe it's me remembering to ask how his day was instead of immediately running through everything that needs to get done.

Maybe it's apologizing when we're wrong, laughing at the absolute circus our life has become, or finding five minutes to sit together without talking about the kids.

And maybe some days, it's simply acknowledging that this season is hard for both of us.

I married my best friend. And somewhere between becoming parents and surviving the everyday chaos, we're learning how to be best friends in a whole new way.

Not perfectly. Not always gracefully.

But together.

And if you're reading this while feeling like you and your husband have become two ships passing in the night, I hope you know you're not the only one.

You can love your children more than life itself and still miss the life you had before them.

You can love your husband deeply and still feel disconnected from him.

You can be grateful for the family you've built and still admit that some days, it's really freaking hard.

Those feelings can exist at the same time.

And maybe that's something we need to talk about more.

Because motherhood changes us. Marriage changes. Life changes.

And somewhere in all that change, we're just two people trying to find our way back to each other—while raising the little people we love most.

Here's to loving the life we've built, missing pieces of the life we had, and remembering that both can be true.

— The Real Mama Log

Let's Talk, Mama 💛

Has motherhood changed your marriage in ways you never expected? What's one thing you miss about your relationship before kids?

Let's talk about it, because I know I can't be the only one.

Share your thoughts in the comments. No judgment, no pretending we have it all figured out. Just real moms having real conversations.

After all, isn't that what having a village is all about?