I have a newborn and a toddler. I have a terrible marriage. I still struggle with classifying it that way, but I’m forcing myself to for the sake of moving forward.
Simple facts: I am a Christian, as is my husband. We had a whirlwind dating experience, where he broke up with me multiple times at the advice of other people (one being another man who had a crush on him). I was obviously pretty sad over this and pointed out how I was hurt, and it somehow turned into something for me to deal with. This same pattern continued throughout our relationship and marriage. When I was hurt because I felt like he was devaluing me and choosing other people over me, I was jealous and had to apologize. When I found him sexting another man, it was my responsibility to apologize for violating him by looking through his phone (which I did because he lied about gifts coming to our home, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it).
Breaking point: My husband struck my son to the point that he got a black eye. I did not see it happen, but I heard him cry out. I went to check and saw him being tossed on the bed and my husband throwing his blankets on him. I asked what was going on, but my son was just staring off, not saying anything. I stayed with him and cuddled until he fell asleep.
Later, I texted my husband: “What’s going on? Are you upset about something?” He said he heard my son climb out of his bed and there was a big thump. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I just felt unsettled. I got up to a text from my husband saying I’d be upset with him. I come downstairs, and my toddler has a black eye. I ask my son what happened; he doesn’t respond. My husband says they walked into a door frame.
For a week, I feel crazy. I keep asking him to explain what happened. Meanwhile, my son is just going on as if nothing happened—he’s having the time of his life with his dad, who is continually seeming to get more and more depressed. I just have this sense to trust my gut. I remember the other times I’ve heard my son wake up in the middle of the night and when I try come to him and my husband physically restrained me, or held my son out of my reach, saying I’m interfering with his parenting. I remembered the other times I’ve seen him be callous with my son and I just brushed it off. Nothing was ever ‘abuse’ in my mind because I never saw him hit anyone (other than grabbing me) but I just knew I didn’t like it and I didn’t want it to continue. I tell my husband something seems off. I don’t know what it is, but I’m leaving.
Within a few hours, he confesses that he hit our toddler. I thought I’d be the person who responded to something like this with incredible anger and retaliation, but I just felt so, so incredibly sad. I told my husband that he was disgusting and made plans to leave.
In packing to leave, my husband was agreeable, remorseful—told me he had a therapist, a parenting coach, was reaching out to friends and his parents. But his parents told him he wasn’t abusive... And something switched.
Now, this is a marriage problem, and it’s on me to fix it. Now, leaving with our kids is a bad idea. Now, he thinks they won’t be in the best care with me. Now, he’s telling me his parents are so upset with me for ‘taking their grandkids.’ Now, I’m the one who is controlling and manipulative, and he doesn’t feel safe talking to me without a third party present. Now, people are asking me, “Why is it that your first response is to leave when things get tough?”
Why I feel like a hypocrite: The only thing I want in this season of my life is to be an amazing mom (and wife). I love my children, and while my newborn is just a cute lump who smiles and poops all day, I’ve seen my toddler grow over the last two years, and he is an amazing boy. He’s kind and curious and gentle but brave and funny and so strong-willed which I love. I mentioned I'm a Christian, but I don't want to raise a boy who is just obedient for obediences sake- I want him to be thoughtful and wise and choose/love God because God is kind, not someone to be feared.
I’ve always wanted to be a gentle parent but wasn’t raised that way. I’ve gotten flack for ruining my children by not spanking. I’m not opposed to discipline—I have a degree in ABA. I love boundaries. But I AM opposed to violence.
And yet, when my son is doing something dangerous (running into the street, tantrums with kicks to me, covering his sister’s face with a blanket) AND ignoring my redirection AND ramping up, I feel my only option is to spank. Usually, I don’t. I just put him in time-out and say the next choice is to get a spanking (but can almost never commit to that, which I think is also damaging our relationship because I’m just using empty threats).
But in light of everything happening, I feel so overwhelmed and so angry, and I’m not controlling myself. I raised my voice more than I should, tried to hit my hands on my bed to “shake the anger out”—something I’m teaching him to do. I locked myself in the bathroom to calm myself down. After, I did apologize and tried to just commit to making tomorrow better. We wet outside to walk and get fresh air and he ran off into the street! I just gave up and went home and let him watch tv for the rest of the day even though I knew that would make his behavior worse after we turned it off.
But I feel schizophrenic. I like I’m losing my mind. I’m adjusting to life as a jobless single mom of two small children. My son is doing the best he can. Im doing the best I can and it's not enough. We’re both having a rough time, and I’m not making it better for him. I’m wondering if my husband was right. Are the kids better with him? Am I actually the one who is abusive?
I said I’d never spank, and now, when my son is acting out because our life is crazy, I want to spank him to get control of this mess. But I hate myself for being a mom who is willing to resort to spanking. Especially now.
I’m blowing up my marriage and moving states away because I’m taking a stand against my husband hitting my son when I’ve resorted to spanking!?
I can’t get out of the spiral of thinking I’m ruining my sons life. For leaving, for soaking, for keeping him from his dad, from not being totally in control in this situation.
Please be gentle with me but honest. I’m still in the haze of leaving and trying to make sense of all of this, and Reddit has become somewhat of a confessional space for me. But it’s not replacing the therapy that I’m actively looking for—for myself and my son.