Carrie Underwood, together with her husband Mike Fisher, are a common couple on the red carpet. They have walked together at some of the world’s most prestigious award ceremonies, including the Grammys, CMA Awards, and American Music Awards.
Usually, we can’t get over how cute this retired hockey player’s spouse is with her country music star husband.
The CMT Music Awards is one event where Fisher is always sure to be seen warmly supporting his wife. Seasons in which the former standout player for the Nashville Predators appeared with Underwood were 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2018, and 2019.
Award shows experienced a slight alteration in operations after the epidemic, but Fisher reunited with his amazing wife in 2022.
But when the 2023 CMT Awards were held in Austin, Texas on April 2, Fisher was nowhere to be found. So what’s the deal?
Don’t think that Mike Fisher and Carrie Underwood are at odds with each other in paradise. He declined to go in person to support his wife, who was up for both Female Video of the Year and Video of the Year at the 2023 CMT Awards.
When asked where her husband was, the “Hate My Heart” singer said, “On the red carpet, he was really on dad duty for the evening.”
“My partner is in charge of the kids. He usually keeps things running while I work on tasks like these. She called out to her three boys, and even at home, she appeared to be keeping an eye on them. Oh no!
Notably, compared to prior years, the former hockey great most likely did not have as much access to the 2023 award presentation. The CMTs have recently taken place in Nashville, the birthplace of country music.
This incident took place near Franklin, Underwood, and Fisher’s suburban Nashville home. However, in November 2022, the award presentation was scheduled to relocate to Texas.
Underwood looked amazing in a rhinestone two-piece that would have placed her on any Best Dressed list, yet it appeared as though she was making the most of her time in Texas, away from her sons.
Carrie Underwood and Mike Fisher, who are well-known, try to keep their two children, Jacob and Isaiah, out of the spotlight. In order to avoid disturbing their routine, Fisher and the singer of “Jesus Take the Wheel” decided not to bring the kids on tour with them last year.
Underwood stated, “They are not coming with me this time,” to ET Canada. “My oldest child’s education is our top priority, and she is enrolled in school. We want their lives to be as normal as possible.
Fisher is a hands-on parent, Underwood continued, which frees her up to concentrate on her work. I also think of myself as fortunate. She muttered, “I have to brag a little about my hubby. “He understands it. When I’m not here, he keeps it under lock and key. I never have to worry about lunches that aren’t packed or unclean laundry.
That makes sense, too, given Fisher’s desire to become a parent. Before Isaiah was born in 2015, he told The Tennessean how excited he was to become a father.
Regarding having children, he remarked, “Many say it’s impossible to explain until it happens, and then it’s the greatest thing ever.” “I’m just thinking about how I can be the best father I can be.”
It wasn’t always like this, even if Mike Fisher and Carrie Underwood appear to be the ideal pair right now. Underwood initially doubted Fisher’s ability to be a good mother, but Fisher has always desired to be a caring mother.
The country music icon stated, “I’ve never been fantastic with other people’s children. Why would I be terrific with one of my own?” in the documentary “Mike and Carrie: God & Country.” She added that at first, having a family wasn’t even at the top of her list of priorities.
“I don’t think I ever thought about getting married and starting a family,” the woman stated. “I can play well alone.” Fisher, on the other hand, was the total opposite.
I was reared with my three other siblings. My parents were also great. And I believe that’s all I was hoping for,” he remarked. “I wanted to be the best father I could be, to be like my father, and to have a wife like my mother.” and have children while living in the country.
All in all, though, everything worked out well because Underwood and Fisher, along with their two children, now live in the nation. After Isaiah was born, Underwood’s entire perspective on fatherhood had dramatically altered. It has changed the kind of person I am. Now I feel better. I’m in a better mood most of the time,” she stated in a Redbook Mag interview. “I’m totally smitten!”
I Heard Our Baby Crying While I Was in the Shower & My Wife Was Watching TV – When I Entered His Room, I Screamed in Shock
One night, I rushed from the shower to find my 3-year-old son crying and covered in red paint while my wife sat nearby, glued to her iPad. Frustrated and confused, I soon uncovered a deeper issue: the silent struggle my wife had been facing, one that threatened to break our family apart.
It was a regular evening. My wife sat in the recliner, scrolling like she often did through her iPad. The kids were in bed, or so I thought. I figured it was the perfect time for a long and relaxing shower.
A woman looking at her iPad | Source: Pexels
I heard a faint cry as I stood under the hot water. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was nothing serious. But then, the cry got louder, more desperate.
“Daddy! Daddy!” my 3-year-old son’s voice pierced through the sound of running water.
A child crying in his room | Source: Midjourney
I quickly turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and rushed out. As I passed through the family room, I glanced at my wife. She was still sitting there, glued to her iPad, completely oblivious to the chaos in the other room.
“You couldn’t calm him down?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
She didn’t even look up. “I tried three times,” she said, sounding bored.
A bored woman in a tablet | Source: Pexels
Three times? I shook my head, frustrated, and hurried into my son’s room. I was ready to comfort him, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw next.
The moment I stepped inside, I saw him sitting up in his bed, his little body shaking as he sobbed. “Daddy, I made a mess,” he said between gasps.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I said softly, assuming it was just tears and snot. “We’ll clean it up.”
A scared child looking up | Source: Midjourney
I walked closer and scooped him up. He clung to me tightly, still crying. His face was buried in my shoulder, and I felt wetness dripping down my neck. “Poor guy’s been crying so long,” I thought. But then, something didn’t feel right. His pajamas were too wet.
I laid him back down and grabbed my phone to turn on the flashlight. That’s when I saw it — red everywhere. At first, my heart dropped, thinking it was blood. I froze. But as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t blood. It was red paint.
A paint palette | Source: Pexels
“Where did this come from?” I whispered, scanning the room. Then I saw the open jar of red paint on the small table near his crib. My wife had been painting animals with him the night before, and somehow, he must’ve knocked the jar over.
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” he cried again, his little hands covered in red.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to stay calm. “It’s just paint. We’ll clean it up.”
A child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney
But the more I looked, the worse it got. The paint had spilled all over his bed, his clothes, and his hair. It was everywhere. And on top of that, I realized he’d wet himself too. My frustration bubbled up. How had my wife not noticed this?
I wiped his face gently and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t Mommy come help you?” I asked softly, trying to piece things together.
He sniffled and looked at me with those big, innocent eyes. “Mommy didn’t check on me. Nobody checked on me.”
An upset child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney
His words stung. I had assumed she’d tried. But now, I wasn’t so sure.
I scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. Something was wrong — more than just spilled paint and wet pajamas.
My son had been left alone, scared and crying, and no one had come. As I bathed him, I couldn’t shake the image of my wife, still sitting in that chair, smiling at whatever was on her screen.
A woman smiling on her couch | Source: Pexels
When we were done, I wrapped him in a towel and headed back to the family room. She hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t even look up when I walked in.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice low but filled with frustration. “How could you not hear him crying?”
“I told you, I tried three times,” she repeated, her eyes glued to the screen.
“But he said you never checked on him,” I shot back, feeling my anger rise.
A man arguing with his wife | Source: Midjourney
She shrugged, not saying a word.
I stood there, holding our son, dripping with paint and bathwater, feeling like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than just a bad night. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
The tension in the room hung heavy, and I knew this wasn’t over. Something had to change. But what?
A man covering his face with his eyes | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I packed a bag for my son and myself. I wasn’t leaving for good — at least, not yet — but I couldn’t stay in the house. I needed space to figure things out. I didn’t tell my wife much as we left. She barely reacted anyway; she just nodded as if my decision meant nothing.
Once at my sister’s place, I made a call I hadn’t planned. I dialed my mother-in-law. I liked her well enough, but this felt like more than just updating her on a tough situation.
A man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
I needed answers. Maybe she’d know what was going on with her daughter because I sure didn’t.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” I started when she picked up. “Something’s not right with your daughter.”
Her voice sounded concerned. “What’s happened? Did you have a fight?”
A woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Pexels
I sighed. “It’s more than that. She ignored our son last night, left him crying and covered in paint. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it’s not just one bad night. She’s… distant. Uncaring. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
My mother-in-law listened carefully, and then after a long pause, she said, “I’ll come over. Let me talk to her.”
A few days later, she called me back. Her voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.
A serious woman typing on her phone | Source: Pexels
“I spoke to her,” she said. “She finally opened up. It’s not you or the baby. It’s depression.”
That word hit me like a ton of bricks. Depression? I had never really thought of that. I had been so focused on my frustration, my anger at her behavior, that I didn’t stop to consider that something deeper was going on.
A sad man realizing his mistake | Source: Midjourney
“She’s been struggling for a while now,” her mother continued. “The pressure of motherhood, losing time for herself, for her art. It’s been overwhelming for her. She feels trapped, like she’s lost who she is.”
I stood there, stunned. I had no idea she was feeling this way. How could I? She never said anything.
“She’s agreed to see a therapist,” her mother added. “But she’s going to need your support. This won’t be easy.”
A mature woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Support. That word echoed in my mind. I had been angry, ready to walk away, but now I had to think about what my wife was really going through. This wasn’t about neglecting our son out of laziness or disinterest. It was deeper than that. And now, I had to figure out how to help her.
While staying with my son, I started to see things differently. Taking care of him on my own wasn’t just hard — it was exhausting.
An exhausted man with his son | Source: Midjourney
Every day was a blur of diapers, tantrums, and trying to keep him entertained. There was barely a moment to breathe, let alone think. By the time I put him to bed, I was drained, both physically and mentally.
I thought about how my wife had been doing this daily for years without a break. She’d put her art aside to take care of our family, but in doing that, she lost a part of herself. The weight of motherhood had quietly crushed her spirit, and I hadn’t noticed.
A sad blonde woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, things slowly started to change. My wife began seeing a therapist. At first, I wasn’t sure if it would help. She was quiet after her sessions, not saying much about what they talked about. But as time passed, I noticed small changes in her.
One day, she called me while I was out with our son. Her voice cracked over the phone.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Can you come home?” she asked. “I need to talk to you.”
When I walked in the door, she was sitting on the couch, looking tired but different somehow. There was something softer in her face, something I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten. I was so lost in my own world, in my head, that I didn’t see what it was doing to you or to our son.”
A sad woman in her phone | Source: Midjourney
I sat down next to her, unsure of what to say. She kept talking.
“The therapist is helping. I know it’ll take time, but I want to be better. Not just for me, but for us. For him.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw the person I had fallen in love with.
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Midjourney
Over the following months, things continued to improve. She started painting again, slowly at first. Her mother would come over and watch our son while she spent a couple of hours in her art studio, reconnecting with the part of herself she had neglected for so long.
“I forgot how much I love this,” she told me one evening, showing me a canvas she had been working on. “It feels good to create again.”
A woman with her painting | Source: Midjourney
Her bond with our son also started to heal. I’d catch them reading together or her teaching him how to draw simple shapes with crayons. The distance that had once separated them was closing, bit by bit. He seemed happier too, more settled, as if he could sense that Mommy was really back.
Our family wasn’t perfect, but we were healing. Together.
A happy family | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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