I Wrote a Marriage Book. Then We Had Another Baby.

There is something objectively hilarious about publishing a book called From I Do to We Do: Navigating Marriage Through the Parenting Years... and then having your third baby a few months later.

It’s like writing a book about swimming and immediately getting thrown into the ocean.

Okay, dude. Let’s see if this stuff actually works.

And for the last three weeks, that’s basically what we’ve been doing.

We welcomed our third beautiful little human into the world, and along with all the love, snuggles, newborn smells, sibling sweetness, and heart-exploding moments came the other stuff.

Sleep deprivation.

Stress.

Schedules.

Recovery.

Two older kids who still need parents.

A newborn who does not care that Dad has emails to answer.

A house that apparently refuses to manage itself.

And two adults trying to remember that we’re on the same team.

I’ve spent years sitting across from couples who love each other deeply but somehow feel completely disconnected.

They’re not necessarily dealing with some massive relationship crisis.

They’re tired.

They’re overwhelmed.

They’re touched out.

They’re carrying different responsibilities.

They’re making assumptions.

They’re keeping score.

They’re communicating at 20% battery and wondering why everything keeps coming out wrong.

Then you add a newborn?

Good luck, everybody.

This is where I’ve had to remind myself of something I tell couples constantly:

Stress is an explanation. It cannot become an excuse to turn on your partner.

Because there have absolutely been moments over these last two weeks when we’re both exhausted.

Moments when one of us needs something the other doesn’t immediately recognize.

Moments when my brain wants to say:

“But I’ve been doing XYZ all day!”

And that’s where the work begins.

One of the biggest relationship traps during parenting is believing everything should always be perfectly equal.

It won’t be.

Especially after having a baby.

Right now, there are things my wife physically and emotionally needs that I don’t. There are things only she can do. And there are things I need to step up and handle because she shouldn’t have to.

Sometimes I’m carrying more.

Sometimes she’s carrying more.

Marriage isn’t always 50/50. Sometimes it’s 80/20. Sometimes it’s 40/60. And sometimes you both walk into the room with 20% and realize, “Well…. We need to figure out what absolutely has to get done today.”

That’s where I like the idea of a Tank Check.

Build it into your Huddle or check-in:

“Where’s your tank right now?”

Maybe I’m at 70%.

Maybe my partner is at 30%.

That doesn’t mean I say, “Cool, I’ll give you 20% so we’re even.”

It means I ask:

“What can I realistically give from my tank right now?”

Because the goal isn’t for both people to contribute the exact same amount.

The goal is for both people to give what they have without completely emptying themselves.

And if your partner says, “I’m at 10% today,” the response isn’t:

“Well, I’m tired too.”

It’s:

“Okay. I’ve got more in my tank today. What does our team need?”

Tomorrow, that might flip.

And when both of you are running on fumes? That’s important information too. Now the Huddle becomes:

“Okay, neither of us has much. What can we drop, delay, outsource, or simply decide doesn’t matter today?”

The goal isn’t keeping the score perfectly tied.

The goal is looking across the chaos and asking:

“What does our team need right now—and what do each of us actually have to give?”

That’s a very different marriage than:

“Well, I already did my part.”

Stop chasing 50/50.

Check the tanks. Communicate the capacity. Then throw yourself into the rotation.

Romance with a newborn doesn’t necessarily look like date night.

Sometimes romance is:

“I’ve got the baby. Go shower.”

“I ordered dinner.”

“You sleep. I’ll handle this.”

“I see how hard you’re working.”

“Thank you.”

A hug in the kitchen.

A stupid joke when you’re both exhausted.

Five minutes on the couch together.

A kiss that isn’t just the logistical “okay-goodnight-we-have-to-sleep-immediately” kiss.

These moments aren’t insignificant.

They’re the relationship.

I’ve called this Baseline Love—the small things we continue doing even when life is absolutely kicking our ass.

Because if we only nurture our relationship when we have time and energy left over?

Parents know exactly how much time and energy is usually left over.

Approximately none.

Here’s maybe the strangest part:

I’ve genuinely found myself thinking about tools from my own book.

Not because I’m some relationship wizard floating peacefully above newborn chaos.

Quite the opposite.

I’m in it.

I’m tired.

I’m overstimulated. VERY, VERY

I’m trying to be a husband, dad of three, therapist, author, business owner, podcaster, and functioning human being.

And sometimes I’m doing a fantastic job.

Sometimes my brain is buffering like a 2004 Dell computer.

But that’s also why I believe so strongly in what I wrote.

This book was never supposed to teach couples how to have a perfect marriage.

Perfect marriages don’t exist.

It’s about having tools for the moments when you’re tired, disconnected, resentful, overwhelmed, confused, or simply trying to survive bedtime.

It’s about remembering that underneath the logistics, responsibilities, bottles, laundry, calendars, appointments, tantrums, and exhaustion...

there is still an us.

And honestly, I’ve realized something important in the middle of all this:

I really need to go back and re-read the book myself and take notes.

Not as an author trying to “review” his own work, but as a husband actually living it.

Because it’s one thing to write the tools.

It’s another thing to remember them at 3:17 a.m. when everyone is crying and nobody has slept.

And in a weird way, that’s the point.

It’s forcing us to fall back on the skills.

Not the theory.

Not the ideas.

The actual skills.

The assumptions we don’t make.

The way we talk to each other when we’re running on empty.

The way we choose “we” even when “me” feels easier in the moment.

Three weeks into being a family of five, I’m exhausted.

I’m emotional.

I’m insanely grateful… and, depending on the hour, maybe a little grumpy too.

I’ve watched my wife be an absolute supermom—healing from a C-section while taking on so much of the newborn load with this incredible mix of strength, calm, pride, and joy.

As I keep saying, the baby is babying… and we’re doing our best to ride the waves that come with it. But through all of it, my wife has somehow remained this steady, calming source of awesomeness in the middle of the chaos.

I’ve watched our older kids fall completely in love with their baby sister in ways that have made my heart explode.

And I’ve been reminded just how quickly these stages move.

Because having another baby doesn’t just bring a new child into your family.

It creates a new version of your family.

A new version of your marriage.

And, in many ways, a new version of each of you.

So that’s what we’re doing right now.

Figuring out this version.

Together.

Not perfectly.
Definitely not always gracefully.

But together.

And maybe that’s the whole point of going from I Do…

to We Do.