I (28F) recently gave birth to our twin babies—a boy, Oliver, and a girl, Lily. They’re almost 9 weeks old now, and while I’m overjoyed to be a mom, I’ve never felt more physically and emotionally drained in my life. I suffered from postpartum hemorrhage right after delivery and lost so much blood that I had to be rushed into emergency surgery. I nearly died. I was in the hospital for almost two weeks recovering. The physical recovery has been brutal, but the emotional toll is even worse and I feel like I’m drowning every single day.

My husband, Matt (32M), was helpful while I was recovering in the hospital, but once we got home, he checked out. He works a 9 to 5 job, but instead of helping when he’s home, he escapes to his "man cave" to play video games or go out with friends. I’m left alone to care for the twins, and the exhaustion has become unbearable. I’ve been having terrible complications from the hemorrhage—constant pain, weakness, and intense anxiety. I still can’t walk properly without getting dizzy, and breastfeeding has been a nightmare. Lily struggles to latch, which leads to bleeding nipples, and every feeding session feels like torture.

I’ve tried to ask Matt for help, but every time I do, he brushes me off. His go-to excuse is that I’m on maternity leave and "this is what moms do." He says he needs to "decompress" after work and that I should be grateful he’s working to provide for us. Meanwhile, I’m lucky if I get 30 minutes of sleep in between feedings, and I’m running on pure adrenaline at this point.

Last week, after another exhausting day with no help, I tried to talk to him about how I felt like I was drowning. His response? He asked when we were going to start having sex again. He said, "It’s been two months, and I’m getting frustrated."

I was speechless. My body hasn’t even fully healed from the traumatic birth, and he was acting like I was depriving him. When I tried to explain how much pain I was still in, both physically and emotionally, he rolled his eyes and said, “Other women bounce back after having babies. It’s not that hard. You’ve gotta stop using it as an excuse.”

I felt so ashamed in that moment. Like I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t recovering fast enough, wasn’t being enough for him. It’s not like I didn’t want to be intimate with him again—I missed the closeness we used to have—but I was still bleeding occasionally, and I could barely walk without wincing. My whole body felt like it was failing me, and instead of being patient or supportive, Matt acted like I was deliberately withholding sex from him.

He even tried to initiate once when I was barely five weeks postpartum, and I had to practically beg him to stop because it was too painful. He got frustrated, said, "Come on, it’s been long enough," and huffed off like a teenager. Every time I tried to talk to him about how overwhelming things were, he’d steer the conversation back to when we’d be having sex again, like that was the only thing on his mind.

This Saturday was my breaking point. The babies had been fussy all night, and I hadn’t slept more than an hour in 48 hours. I was completely exhausted, and with my anemia still making me weak, I could barely stand, the incision from my surgery was throbbing with pain. Matt had left early that morning for a full day of golf with his buddies, despite knowing how rough my night had been. He said he'd be back by noon, but noon came and went, and he was still out. He was golfing at a course that was only an hour away, so I figured if things got too bad, he’d come home.

Around 4 PM, I was trying to feed Oliver while Lily was crying. My hands were shaking from sheer exhaustion, and in that moment, I almost dropped Oliver. I caught him just in time, but it scared me so badly that I collapsed on the floor in tears. I texted Matt, begging him to come home, telling him I was scared and overwhelmed. His response? “Just put them in their cribs and rest. I’ll be home later.”

“Later” turned into 9 PM, by which time I was a complete mess. I had been alone with the twins all day, with no help, no food, and no sleep. When Matt finally walked through the door, he didn’t seem to care at all. He saw me sitting on the floor with the twins still crying and giggled. Yes, giggled. He looked down at me, smiling like it was all some kind of joke, and said, “You’re being overdramatic. You should’ve just handled it.”

I saw red. His smug, dismissive little giggle was the final straw. In a blind rage, I grabbed his beloved golf clubs—the ones he’s obsessed with—and smashed them against the floor. I broke two of them before Matt even realized what was happening. He started screaming at me, calling me "crazy" and "psycho" for breaking something "so expensive" and accusing me of "losing it."

After that, he stormed out of the house and spent the night at a friend’s place. His best friend has since been texting me, calling me a "psycho" and saying I’m "unhinged" for destroying his clubs. He told me I owe Matt a huge apology for "overreacting" and that he’s been "trying his best."

But has he? I’m here, day after day, struggling to keep it together with two newborns while still recovering from a traumatic birth. I’ve been so weak that I’ve nearly dropped my baby, and Matt hasn’t been around to help. He works during the week, and I understand that, but every weekend he’s out golfing or with his buddies. And whenever he comes back from work he is either watching sports or playing online games. I haven’t had more than two hours of sleep at a time in weeks. I feel like I’m drowning.

I’m starting to feel like maybe I did overreact, but at the same time, I’m so angry that he doesn’t seem to care about how hard things have been for me.

AITA for breaking his golf clubs?

Edit 1: I see a lot of people blaming me for "sitting at home doing nothing" while he’s out making all the money, so let me clarify a few things. I am currently on PAID maternity leave for 12 weeks, so it’s not like I’m just lounging around. I'm taking care of newborn twins while recovering from childbirth, which is exhausting in itself.

Also, for those assuming I don’t contribute financially—I do. I make a little over 2/3rd of what he makes, so it’s not like there’s some huge income gap between us. The difference isn't so extreme that it justifies him leaving me alone all day while he goes off golfing with his buddies.

Edit 2: I realize now that a lot of people think I’m failing as a mother, and maybe I am. I’ve seen the comments saying things like, "I had two jobs and four kids and managed just fine," and it hurts because I feel like such a failure compared to that. But I want to explain why I’ve been struggling.

After the twins were born, I suffered a hemorrhage, which led to emergency surgery. I’ve been in constant pain ever since, and I’m also dealing with severe anemia. There are days I can barely stand without feeling dizzy or faint. Every time I try to do something simple, like feed or change the twins, I’m reminded of how weak I’ve become. I know I should be stronger, but it’s hard to when my body feels like it’s breaking down.

I’m not making excuses for smashing Matt’s golf clubs. I know that was wrong. I just… I feel like I’m drowning. I love my babies, but I’m so tired. I’m trying so hard to keep it together, but it feels like everything is falling apart. I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle all this alone. Maybe I do deserve all the blame—I just don’t know how much more I can take.

24 hours to play any game, however much currency you earn will be converted at a 1:1 rate into US Dollars. 1 gold = $1

Edit: you must start a new save game, you cannot purchase in game currency with real money

Edit 2: no infinite money glitches, you must play without exploits

What game are you playing?