9 Months Pregnant and Building a Crib Alone – The Harsh Lesson My Husband Learned

My Husband Refused to Assemble Our Baby’s Crib — So I Did It Myself While 9 Months Pregnant, but the Lesson I Taught Him Was Harsh

Eloise, who is nine months pregnant, is eager to start nesting, but her husband Tom keeps putting off putting the cot together. Feeling alone and frustrated, she decides to take matters into her own hands and arranges a startling lesson to make Tom realize the consequences of his silence.

I sat in the recliner and gazed at the crib box that was still sealed in the nursery’s corner. With the exception of that stupid crib, everything was prepared for the baby’s arrival. For weeks, it had been there, reminding me of all the things Tom had promised but never delivered on.

Whenever I urged him to assemble it, his response was invariably, “tomorrow.” However, tomorrow never arrived, and here I was, feeling more alone than ever, worn out, and ready to burst.

For him, putting the crib together was just one more thing to do on an endless list. It seemed like a crucial step in getting ready for the baby to me. One that had inadvertently become a warning that my husband would not be a suitable father.

I made the decision to do it myself.

My back was hurting from the strain of dragging that big box across the room. The baby moving inside of me served as a harsh reminder that I shouldn’t be pushing myself in this way. However, what option did I have?

Even though the directions were a headache to follow, I persevered, hands shaking, piece by piece and screw by screw. Tom entered about halfway through, as I was having trouble positioning a particularly difficult piece.

It was that carefree expression on his face that used to make me want to yell, but now it just made me want to cry.

“Hey,” he replied, casting a quick glance at the partially built crib. “Well done. If you can accomplish it on your own, why did you seek for my assistance?”

Was that really all he said? I started to rip him a new one, but the words became lodged in my throat. I turned back to the crib, not attempting to hide my emotions because he wouldn’t get it anyhow.

After standing for a minute, he shrugged and walked out of the room. By the time I finished the crib, I felt like roadkill. I collapsed onto the ground and gazed at it through a mist of tears.

This was meant to be a memory of our time together, something that would make us both smile in the future. Rather, it served as just more reminder of my sense of isolation.

I laid in bed next Tom that night, my head spinning from all that had transpired.

That’s when I understood it wasn’t all about the crib. It had to do with the way he’d dismissed my worries. He seemed to believe that I didn’t need him because I was self-sufficient and strong.

That’s when I realized something needed to change. It was more than just assembling a crib here. It was all about assembling our lives and our alliance.

And I had no idea what our future held if he was unable to recognize it, to take the necessary action, and to be the partner I needed him to be.

There was no doubt about it: He had to understand that this was our adventure, not just mine. And we were going to have a big issue if he didn’t start acting like it.

I woke up the following morning with a plan. I didn’t usually take revenge, but with what happened last night, something had to give. Tom needed a wake-up call, and so be it if I had to plan the entire damn thing.

“Tom,” I replied, massaging my back as though it hurt more than it actually did. “I’m going to try to relax today. Just lately, I’ve been so exhausted.”

He barely paid attention when he looked up from his phone. Yes, sweetie. Take as much time as you require. Everything is under control with me.”

It was precisely what I was hoping to hear. Tomorrow, I’m having some friends and family around. Just a little get-together before to the baby’s arrival. Could you take care of the remaining arrangements? You know, make sure everything is flawless, acquire the cake, and arrange the decorations?”

His palm waved dismissively. “Yes, really, no issue. How challenging can it possibly be?”

Tom, oh. If only you were aware.

I lounged on the couch the remainder of the day while he played about on his computer or watched TV. I would occasionally glance at him and wonder whether he had any idea what he had just consented to.

However, he was content as ever and blissfully oblivious to the calamity I was about to unleash.

I made sure to stay in bed later than usual the following morning, letting him sleep in a little bit later than usual.

Upon his eventual awakening, I gave him the list I had made. I had neglected to mention one important detail: there was not enough time to complete the few duties necessary to prepare for the celebration.

I choked back a yawn and continued, “Here’s the list.” “I’m just going to take a little more nap. You reckon you can handle this?

Still half asleep, Tom glanced over the list. Yes, no worries. I’ll finish everything.”

I suppressed a smile. It was going to be a fun one.

I heard him swearing under his breath in the kitchen about an hour later. I remained in bed and listened to him as he fumbled around, realizing how much work remained. I could tell the time was running out and that he was beginning to feel the strain.

“Where the heck is the cake order?” I heard him grumble, and then there was the sound of closed cabinets. “Did she even tell me which bakery?”

I suppressed a laugh as I imagined him fumbling in front of the bakery counter, attempting to use tactful conversation to convince himself that he could quickly get a cake.

This is the exact feeling I wanted him to have—the overwhelming panic that comes with knowing you’re totally unprepared.

He was getting more and more stressed as the morning went on. With decorations hanging half-dangling from his hands and arms laden with groceries, he dashed in and out of the house. His hair stuck out in every direction when he popped his head into the bedroom at one point.

“Babe, where did you say the streamers were?” With a slightly elevated tone, he posed the question.

As I pretended to go back asleep, I said, “Check the hallway closet.”

The streamers weren’t in the hallway closet, I was quite sure of that. They were hidden beneath an old mound of Christmas ornaments in the basement. Not that he needed to know that.

Tom was a mess by the time people began to arrive. He was struggling to keep everything together, the food was barely cooked, and the decorations were only halfway finished.

As our friends and relatives crowded the living room, I pretended to read a magazine while watching from the couch.

When my mother-in-law arrived, it was finally time. Her eyebrows knitted together in a way that only mothers can, she gave Tom the cold shoulder.

“What’s going on here, Tom?” Glancing at the partially hanging decorations and the vacant table that held the cake, she inquired.

With a hand tumbling through his hair, Tom muttered. “I, uh, I had everything under control, but… things got a little crazy.”

Even though I could see the condemnation in her eyes, I remained silent. It was time for him to accept that this was his problem.

I got up as the visitors started to settle in and walked to the front of the room while seeming to be a little tired.

I began, “Thank you all for coming,” a fire burning in my chest, but I spoke steadily. “I just wanted to let you know how much your presence here means to me. Since I’ve been handling a lot of the preparations myself, it’s been challenging to get ready for the kid.”

“Including putting the nursery together. It’s true that a few days ago, with my large belly and all, I had to put the crib together by myself. It was really challenging, and I’m still exhausted.”

With everyone’s focus on Tom, the room went silent. With uneasiness, he moved around, blushing from shame. His mother, unable to conceal her dismay, even averted her gaze.

“And it’s made me realize,” I went on, “that teamwork is at the heart of both marriage and parenthood. It takes more than one person to carry the load.”

As the visitors exchanged uncomfortable looks, I let the words linger in the air, feeling their weight slowly sink in.

Tom’s mom sighed and gave a little shake of her head.

“Tom, you ought to have known better,” she said.

For a split second, I thought Tom might want to sink into the floor, and I nearly felt sorry for him. But then I thought back to the weeks of broken promises, the sleepless nights, and the cot I’d had to put together by myself.

No, he had to experience this.

Tom and I sat down at the kitchen table after the party, when everyone had left. He appeared worn out and depleted by the day’s activities. Initially, I remained silent and waited for him to speak before I spoke.

With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, he apologized. “I had no idea how much of my burden you would have to bear. Although I believed I was assisting, I was simply… I wasn’t there when I should have been, so I’m not sure.”

I felt a knot in my throat as I nodded.

“Tom, please let me know that you are dependable. For all the important things, not just the major ones. I shouldn’t have to do this alone, but I can’t.”

He extended his hand across the table and grasped my hand. “I swear, I’ll improve. Yes, I will be present. I’ll adapt.”

I could see the earnestness and resolve to put things right in his eyes as I gazed into them.

At last, I said, “Okay.” “Tom, though, this is your chance. Save it, please.