At seven months pregnant, I expected my husband to be my greatest supporter. Instead, I got lectures about how his mother “worked until her water broke” and accusations of laziness when I mentioned taking early maternity leave. The man who used to split chores equally now scoffed at my exhaustion, completely dismissing the physical toll of growing a human.
Rather than argue, I decided to show him exactly what “lazy” looked like. I doubled down – cooking elaborate meals after full workdays, deep cleaning our home, never complaining despite my aching back. His smug “I told you you could handle it” comments fueled my quiet determination.
Then came Operation Baby Bootcamp. While Doug thought he was “babysitting the house” for a day, my doula friend Shannon arrived with a parenting crash course. My college friend Maddie brought her twin infants for real-world practice. Seven hours later, I returned to find a broken man surrounded by crying babies, dirty diapers, and the realization that he couldn’t handle what I’d been doing daily while pregnant.
The scrapbook of my pregnancy struggles I gave him that night – complete with photos of swollen feet and exhausted notes – drove the point home. His tearful apology came with pancakes the next morning and a call to his mother, who revealed she’d actually taken four months of pregnancy leave – contrary to the “strong woman” narrative he’d weaponized against me.
Now? He rubs my feet without asking and finally understands that true strength isn’t silent suffering – it’s knowing when to rest and asking for help when needed.
