Recently, I photographed a couple who are expecting their first baby — a boy. They were newly married and were in that glowy, magical stage of pregnancy where everything still feels like a dream.
She was absolutely radiant — that soft, beautiful glow that everyone talks about — and he was gently guiding her down the path, hand on her arm, making sure she didn’t trip. It was so sweet. So innocent. They were bubbly and in love, their adoring glances bouncing off each other like sunlight. Really, it was the ideal maternity session.
But that’s not what I was thinking about.
As I watched them, my heart ached a little. Because I know what’s coming.
A Rollercoaster of Emotions
That first year after the baby arrives — the baby you’ve spent months dreaming about, planning for, reading every book about — it’s a wild, breathtaking roller coaster. The highs? They’re higher than you ever imagined possible. You’ll feel a love so fierce and expansive that you’ll wonder what you even lived for before this. You’ll want to tell every friend you’ve ever had to have a baby right now.
You’ll think, This is it. This is what life was supposed to be.
(Just ignore the fact that there’s spit-up in your hair, you haven’t showered in four days, and you’d trade a kidney for the chance to drink one cup of coffee with two hands while it’s still hot.)
But there’s another side, too.
The side where you and your husband whisper-yell at each other over the baby’s head about whether she needs to be fed, changed, burped, or put down. The side with heated, 2 a.m. arguments about sleep training, pacifiers, and whose turn it is to rock the baby again.
Here’s the truth I wish someone had told me before I had kids:
Having a baby will be the highest high of your relationship — and sometimes, the lowest low.
Testing the Relationship
Because there’s nothing — absolutely nothing — I would fight for like I fight for my babies. And when you’re both exhausted, hormonal, and trying desperately to keep a tiny human alive, even the smallest parenting difference can feel enormous.
My husband and I have very different upbringings and parenting instincts. He grew up in northern Italy while I was raised in Vancouver, Canada. We have different cultures, customs and childrearing norms.
And in those foggy, sleepless months, I felt like every decision was life or death. I knew my way was the right way — the gentle, nurturing, psychologically-sound way. His way, I was certain, would cause permanent trauma. (It didn’t.)
For the record: No, sleep training isn’t child abuse. Yes, you can leave your 6-month-old and go out to dinner (and in fact you probably should). No, your baby will not starve themselves if they don’t like puréed peas.
But in the messy middle of hormones, exhaustion, and caring for an entirely new person — a person with their own needs, moods, and opinions — everything feels urgent. Everything feels monumental.
What I Wish I Had Known
So, as we wrapped up that maternity session and walked back to the parking lot, I said something like: “I wish someone had told me that after the baby was born, there would be days when I thought I hated my husband.”
They both laughed nervously and looked at each other. I don’t think they believed me. I felt slightly ridiculous and overly dramatic.
And maybe they won’t have to. Maybe their baby will sleep through the night at two months. Maybe they’ll agree on everything, stay blissfully in sync, and continue to float in that love bubble forever. I truly hope so.
But if the bubble bursts — even just a little — and they find themselves furiously rocking a colicky baby at 3 a.m. while the other partner snores peacefully… or if one of them finds themselves mindlessly Googling “signs you need a divorce after baby” — I hope they remember what I said.
I hope they know this is a stage.
That the aching, nauseating doubt of new parenthood eventually fades. That one day, they’ll look back and realize that maybe their partner’s parenting instincts weren’t all wrong. That you do, in fact, still love this person — the one they created life with, who was right there in the trenches with you, fighting their own fight for their babies.
Because those little humans who nearly drove you both over the edge? They’re also the ones who will bind you closer than you ever thought possible.
So yes — there will be tantrums, tears, and whispered fights in the dark. But there will also be so much love, and care, and tiny moments of quiet bliss where you rock a baby at dawn.
Parenthood changes everything — and that’s exactly what it’s supposed to do.
So there. Don’t say I didn’t tell you.
