When my husband wouldn’t put together our baby’s crib, I had to do it myself when nine months pregnant, and the lesson I learned was harsh.
Eloise, who was nine months pregnant and experiencing a strong desire to start a family, was becoming more and more irritated with her spouse, Tom. The crib remained in its unopened box despite her repeated reminders, a symbol of his procrastination and her increasing feelings of loneliness. As the baby was about to arrive, Eloise made the decision to handle things herself, determined to give Tom a lesson he would never forget.
I was seated in the recliner in the nursery, staring at the crib box that had been in the corner for weeks without being opened. The crib wasn’t completed, but it felt like a huge metaphor of all the promises Tom had broken, even if the rest of the room was set for our baby. His reply was usually the same when I asked him to put it together: “Tomorrow.” However, tomorrow never seemed to arrive, and here I was, worn out and feeling more isolated than before.
Assembling the crib was simply one more task on Tom’s never-ending list of things to accomplish. However, it represented our partnership—which had begun to feel more and more like a solitary journey—to me and was an essential component of getting ready for our child. The longer the crib remained empty, the more I started to wonder if I could really count on him in the most important situations.
I gave up and did it on my own.
My back hurt every time I moved the bulky box across the room. I should not be exerting myself in this way, a stinging pang informed me when the baby moved inside of me. However, what option did I have?
Despite the disorganized directions, I persevered, bit by bit and screw after screw, my hands shaking from the strain. Tom entered just as I was having trouble with a particularly difficult section. That carefree expression on his face—the one that used to make me fall in love with him—was all that was left when I felt angry.
With a casual glance at the partially built crib, he said, “Hey.” Well done. If you could accomplish it on your own, why did you seek for my assistance?
I looked in shock at him. Was that really all he said? I wanted to yell at him to let him know how much he was disappointing me, but I knew that wouldn’t change anything. Instead, with tears flowing down my cheeks, I turned back to the crib.
After a few while, Tom shrugged and exited the room, leaving me to complete the duty that we ought to have done together. I felt so defeated by the time I finished. I dropped to the ground and gazed at the crib while shedding a few tears. This was meant to be a shared experience, something that would bring back memories for us both. Rather, it had turned into yet another symbol of my sense of isolation.
My thoughts were racing as I laid in bed next Tom that evening. The crib was not the only issue. It had to do with the way he disregarded my worries, acting as though my independence and power made me unnecessary. I did, however, need him—just not in this way. There has to be a change. This was about creating our lives together, not simply about constructing a crib.
I woke up the following morning with a plan. I wasn’t one to take revenge, but in light of the events, I felt Tom deserved a wake-up call.
“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 seldom took his eyes off his phone. Yes, darling. 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 a small get-together with some friends and family before the baby is born. 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, no issue at all. How challenging can it possibly be?
Tom, oh. If only you were aware.
For the remainder of the day, I did nothing but lounge on the couch and watch him fiddle with his computer, totally unaware of what he’d just committed to. I allowed him oversleep just long enough to cause him to fall behind schedule the following morning, staying in bed later than normal.
Upon his eventual awakening, I gave him the list I had made. It seemed simple enough, a few chores to prepare for the party, but I had overlooked one important aspect: there just wasn’t enough time to finish everything.
I choked back a yawn and continued, “Here’s the list.” “I’m just going to take a little more nap. I take it you’ve got this?
Scanning the list, still dazed, was Tom. Yes, no concerns. I’ll finish everything.
I suppressed a smirk, knowing that this would be fascinating.
I heard him swearing under his breath in the kitchen an hour later as he hurried to finish the jobs. He muttered something about the cake order as cabinets crashed. I suppressed a giggle, seeing him in a frenzy at the bakery, attempting to use charm to acquire a cake at the last minute.
I had intended him to feel this precise way—the overwhelming panic that comes from knowing he was totally unprepared.
He could feel his stress level rising 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 disheveled, he once stuck his head into the bedroom.
“Dad, tell me where the streamers are,” His voice higher than usual, he asked.
Pretending to go back asleep, I said, “Check the hall closet.”
I was aware that the streamers were hidden in the basement beneath a pile of vintage Christmas ornaments, not in the hall closet. However, he wasn’t in need of knowing that.
Tom was a complete mess by the time the visitors began to arrive. The food was barely cooked, the decorations were arranged carelessly, and I could see the fear in his eyes as he struggled to keep everything together.
Faking interest in a magazine, I watched from the couch as our friends and relatives crowded the living room. When Tom’s mother arrived, that was the moment of truth. With her eyebrows knitted together, she gave him the cold shoulder.
Tom, what’s going on here? Glancing at the partially hanging decorations and the vacant area where the cake was supposed to be, she questioned.
With a hand tumbling through his hair, Tom muttered. “I thought I had everything figured out, but then things kind of went haywire.”
Shaking her head, his mother let out a sigh. “You ought to have been more aware.”
For an instant, I was on the verge of feeling terrible for Tom because it seemed like he wanted to vanish. But then I thought back to the weeks of unfulfilled promises, the sleepless nights, and the makeshift crib I had put together.
No, he had to experience this.
Tom and I took a seat at the kitchen table after the party, once the guests had departed. He appeared exhausted, dejected. I waited for him to speak before breaking the silence.
Silently, he apologized. “I had no idea how much of my burden you would have to bear. I wasn’t helping, even if I felt I was. I wasn’t present when I ought to have been.
With a knot in my throat, I nodded. “I need to know that I can count on you, Tom. For all the important things, not just the major ones. I shouldn’t have to do this by myself; I can’t do it alone.
He grasped my hand by reaching across the table. “I swear, I’ll perform better. I’m going to be there. I’ll adapt.
I looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity there. Finally, I said, “Okay.” But Tom, this is your moment. Save it, please.