Okay, my dearest girlies, pull up a chair. I’m here to spill my secret on how I finally got my husband to share the load at home. You’ll want to read this to the very end.

Three years ago, I married the absolute love of my life. It was the most amazing moment, locking it down with the man I chose to do life with. Before marriage? Our sex life was fire. We had endless energy for each other. He showed his prowess, and I proved I was *ghaman*—the strongest woman. We could go all night and never, ever get tired of each other.

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After two years of dating, we tied the knot, and right after the ceremony, I discovered I was two months pregnant. We were thrilled! But, I’ll be honest, a part of me was a little disappointed we didn’t get that newlywed season just for us. But I took it in good faith.

I thought pregnancy would lower my libido, but surprise! Mine shot through the roof. And my husband was more than happy to oblige, let me tell you.

Then I gave birth via C-section. It took a long while for me to fully recover, to feel fit enough for my other duties as a wife. During that “no action” period, I was calm. I knew that when I returned to the force, I was going to bring my entire energy. So when the doctor finally gave me the green light, I knew it was go time. But that night, my husband… he was moving like I was an amateur. Like he was holding a precious child, afraid to hurt me. I knew it came from love, from prioritizing my comfort. But still. He was so helpful though, he even learned how to baby our baby at just two weeks old. I was so grateful.

When our first was three months old, life happened—I got pregnant again.

And after the delivery of our second child… something shifted. I watched my husband turn from the best thing that ever happened to me to… something else. Maybe it was the devil’s work. Maybe it was God guiding me to unlock my own womanly prowess. But the love of my life became distant. Lazy. He seemed only interested in the deed, every day and night, while leaving me to handle *all* the household chores and child care. This wasn’t the man he was with our first child. What went wrong?

He’d go to work, come home late, and wouldn’t lift a finger. Not even to carry a bucket of water to the kitchen or help feed his own children. He’d just sit, press his phone, and send me around while I carried our baby on my back.

“Akosua, bring me the remote, I left it on the dining table.”
“Akosua, bring me cold water.”
“Akosua, the sugar is not enough, bring me some.”

I felt exhausted. Unappreciated. I lost my sense of self-worth. I tried talking to him, but nothing changed. So, I decided to take a drastic measure. It was a dare. The ultimate test. I decided to lie about being sick, to see if he would finally help around.

I took a two-week leave from work to put my plan into action. Here’s how it went.

Day One: When he noticed I was ill, he actually took charge. He ordered food for dinner, bathed the kids, and helped with their morning routine. He drew the line at homework, but that was okay. That night was a welcome surprise. Normally, even when I’m unwell, my husband would still want to climb on me. But this time, he respected my space. I slept peacefully, a small smile tucked on my face.

The Next Morning: Wonders! He bathed the kids, prepared breakfast, got them ready for school, and then went to work. After his shift, he came home and took care of dinner. He handled all my daily chores—cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children—before retiring to bed. I was thrilled. It was a different feeling.

Day Five: I decided to test the waters. As he finished his chores and got ready for bed, I started flirting with him. But he gently declined. He said he was exhausted, started listing all the tasks he had done… “my back and chest, I need rest my body…” I simply smiled and drifted off to sleep. Let him feel it.

A week later, according to my plan, I was supposed to be “recovering.” So, little by little, I started acting like I was getting better. But even then, my husband kept helping. He continued to pull his weight. He’d ask if *I* was tired or ready, gently checking in, respecting my boundaries and desires.

And me? I felt more connected to him than ever. Seeing a man help around the house is rare, and somehow, I had maneuvered my way through and ‘fixed’ the big problem in my house. And even better? At night, we go well. Very well.

Why am I sharing this?

Marriage Through the Eyes of Millennials and Gen-Z

I’m overjoyed my plan worked. I’ve fallen even more in love with my husband, with this man who now sees me, and sees the work it takes to run our home. I hope this newfound understanding, this teamwork, lasts a lifetime.

So to my girlies, sometimes they need to walk in your shoes to truly understand the weight you carry. Even if they need a little nudge to try them on.

—Akosua

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