Nine months pregnant, Eloise felt every ounce of exhaustion and anxiety hit her at once as she sat on the armchair in the nursery, staring at the unopened crib box. The room was almost perfect—soft yellow walls with hand-painted flowers blooming in the corners, a rocking chair next to the window, and tiny clothes folded neatly in the dresser. Everything was ready for the baby’s arrival—except the crib.
For weeks, she had asked Tom to assemble it. Each time, he would say, “Tomorrow, babe, I promise.” Tomorrow never came, and now here she was, ready to pop, exhausted, and feeling more alone than ever. Eloise loved Tom. She’d loved him since the night he made her laugh so hard she snorted wine out of her nose. He’d always been the one to lighten the mood, make her feel safe, and wrap her in his big bear hugs that made the world feel smaller and simpler.
But something had changed during the pregnancy. Tom seemed distant—lost in his own world of work, projects, and late-night gaming. Eloise knew he wasn’t trying to be neglectful, but it stung to feel like her needs were so easily pushed aside. He didn’t see the way her hands shook when she folded tiny onesies, wondering if she’d be enough. Or how her heart raced when she thought about labor and the aftermath. She needed him—now more than ever.
Fed up, she decided to take matters into her own hands. If Tom couldn’t bother to build the crib, she would. Dragging the heavy box across the room was a feat in itself. She sat on the floor, breathing hard, clutching her stomach as the baby shifted uncomfortably. The instructions unfolded like an ancient map, full of obscure symbols and numbers that made her head spin. She took a deep breath and started sorting the parts. One piece at a time, she told herself.
Halfway through, her hands were trembling from the strain of tightening screws when Tom finally walked in. He looked from the half-assembled crib to his wife on the floor, sweat beading on her forehead, and gave a low whistle.
“Wow, look at you go. Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, oblivious to the fire building in Eloise’s chest.
“Wait for you?” she snapped, unable to hide her frustration. “I’ve been waiting for weeks, Tom! I’m nine months pregnant and had to drag this heavy box across the room because ‘tomorrow’ never comes!”
He raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t know it bothered you this much. You could’ve just reminded me.”
Eloise’s mouth fell open. “I did remind you! Over and over! I shouldn’t have to beg you to do something you promised.”
Tom frowned and muttered something under his breath, then walked out of the room. Eloise wiped her face, biting back angry tears. She kept going, finishing the crib with sore hands and an aching back. When it was finally done, she stared at it, feeling hollow and defeated.
That night, they barely spoke. Eloise lay awake long after Tom fell asleep, wondering how they had gotten so disconnected. She knew marriage wasn’t always easy, but she never imagined feeling so unseen. As the baby squirmed inside her, Eloise whispered, “I’ll always be here for you, even if I have to do it all alone.”
The next morning, Eloise decided it was time to make a point. She knew Tom needed to understand that his absence wasn’t just about a crib—it was about partnership and support. She planned a small get-together with friends and family and casually told Tom to handle the preparations. Predictably, he shrugged it off, confident that it wouldn’t be a big deal.
When the day arrived, Tom woke up late and rushed through the list Eloise had given him, only to realize how much he had underestimated the effort. Decorations were scattered, the cake was forgotten, and he couldn’t find the plates. As guests began arriving, Tom’s panic was palpable.
During the gathering, Eloise stood up to thank everyone for coming and casually mentioned assembling the crib by herself because Tom hadn’t gotten around to it. Silence filled the room as Tom looked down, shame creeping into his expression. His mother shot him a disappointed glance, and friends exchanged awkward looks.
That night, after everyone left, Tom found Eloise at the kitchen table. He took her hands gently and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I was leaving on you. I thought I was helping by handling other things, but I wasn’t there when you needed me most. I’m sorry.”
Eloise squeezed his hands, tears welling up. “I need you to be present, Tom. Not just in the big moments, but every day. I’m scared, and I can’t do this alone.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I’ll do better. I promise. We’ll do this together.”
As they sat in the quiet kitchen, holding onto each other, Eloise let herself believe him, hoping that from now on, they would face the challenges as partners—not as two people just trying to survive.
