Nobody warned me about marriage after having a baby. Before my daughter was born, my husband and I were best friends. We did everything together, and he truly felt like my other half. I was obsessed with him in ways I can’t even begin to describe.

My pregnancy was difficult—not life-threatening, but filled with weird and exhausting symptoms. I had food aversions for 24 weeks, pelvic organ prolapse, and gestational hypertension. It was not an easy pregnancy, and the thought of going through it again makes me sick to my stomach.

My husband has always been a bit of a perfectionist, especially when it comes to the house, whereas I am more relaxed. During pregnancy, our arguments became more frequent because I couldn’t keep up with housework the way I used to. Though he is incredibly helpful—waking up with the baby, letting me sleep in, cleaning before the nanny arrives, and even doing his own laundry—he can also be rigid and not always understanding. I don’t have a deadbeat husband. He is involved and contributes a lot, but his expectations sometimes feel overwhelming. It’s expected that I handle my own laundry, cook, do our daughter’s laundry and dishes, and split the house cleaning with him. Meanwhile, I work full-time, go to school full-time, breastfeed, and try to work out daily. I have so much on my plate that balancing it all has been nearly impossible. Meanwhile, my husband only works full-time and goes to the gym, so he has significantly more downtime than I do.

The things we argue about are so petty—me forgetting to put my Starbucks cup on a coaster, not folding my laundry quickly enough, not cooking one night—but they escalate into massive fights. We resort to name-calling, ignoring each other, and even throwing around threats of divorce. It’s exhausting.

On top of all this, I want to move, which has become another major point of conflict. I’ve realized I don’t want to live somewhere this cold for the rest of my life. Winters here last over six months, and we rarely get outside. It’s depressing, and I can’t imagine raising kids in this environment. We stay here because his family is here, but ever since having my daughter, they feel absent. I used to have a great relationship with his mom, but now it’s weird. She doesn’t stop by when she’s in the neighborhood, she makes comments about how strange it is to be a grandma, and while I get that she’s adjusting, I don’t understand why that affects her relationship with my daughter. I feel like I’m sacrificing my happiness for people who aren’t even present.

Denver feels like a dream to me—milder winters, access to the outdoors, and a fresh start. But my husband can’t imagine breaking his mom’s heart by leaving. That comment frustrates me more than anything. What about my happiness? What about what’s best for our daughter?

I’ve thought about filing for divorce. The nagging, the expectations, the constant exhaustion—it’s all wearing me down, and I feel myself resenting him. But I also love him. And I don’t want my daughter to grow up resenting me for breaking up our family. So, I’m trying to hold on and see if things get better.

Another thing weighing on me is that he wants four kids. I initially agreed, but after experiencing pregnancy, I know I can’t go through that again more than once. Two kids, max. The thought of more than that is overwhelming, but I don’t know how to tell him without disappointing him.

Then there’s faith. My husband is extremely religious, and I don’t know where I stand anymore. I’ve been struggling with the reality of who God is and what I truly believe.

I just hope things get better. I miss the person who used to be my best friend.