My Husband Refused to Assemble Our Baby’s Crib – So I Did It Myself When I Was 9 Months Pregnant, But the Lesson I Taught Him Was a Hard One

Nine months pregnant, Eloise is eager to make her nest, but her husband, Tom, keeps putting off putting the crib together. Frustrated and feeling neglected, she takes matters into her own hands and plans a shocking

I’ll never forget the day my husband refused to assemble our baby’s crib. I was nine months pregnant, and we were just weeks away from welcoming our first child. The nursery had been painted, the baby clothes were folded neatly in drawers, and the only thing left was the crib. It sat in its box, untouched, waiting to be assembled. I had asked my husband multiple times to put it together, but every request was met with excuses.

“I’ll get to it later,” he would say, or “I’m too tired today, maybe tomorrow.” But “tomorrow” never came. As the days passed and my due date loomed closer, my frustration grew. I was physically exhausted, carrying the extra weight and dealing with the aches and pains of late pregnancy. But more than that, I was hurt that he didn’t seem to share the same urgency or excitement about preparing for the baby.

One evening, after yet another excuse, I’d had enough. I realized that if I wanted the crib assembled, I was going to have to do it myself. My husband was on the couch, watching TV, as if nothing was wrong. I stood in front of him, my hands resting on my swollen belly, and told him, “If you won’t do it, I will.”

He barely looked up. “Fine,” he said, dismissively, “but don’t overdo it. You’re pregnant.”

That was the final straw. I marched into the nursery, determined. With my nine-month-pregnant belly making every movement difficult, I grabbed the toolbox and began unpacking the crib parts. Each piece was heavier than I’d anticipated, and bending down was a challenge, but I pushed through. I assembled the crib, bit by bit, sweating and breathing heavily, but refusing to give up.

It took me hours, and my back was aching, but I finally finished. As I tightened the last screw, I felt a mixture of pride and exhaustion. I stood there, staring at the completed crib, realizing I had done it on my own—something my husband had refused to do.

When I walked back into the living room, my husband glanced at me, seeing my exhaustion and the determination still on my face. “You really did it?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes,” I said firmly, “I did it because you wouldn’t. But you should know something—I won’t forget this.”

My words hit him harder than he expected. It wasn’t just about the crib. It was about the lack of support, the dismissiveness, and the realization that I couldn’t rely on him in a moment when I needed him most.

The next few days were tense. I didn’t need to say much; the crib standing proudly in the nursery was lesson enough. He eventually came to me, apologizing for not stepping up and for taking me for granted. It wasn’t just about assembling furniture—it was about being there, being a partner, and showing up when it mattered.

That day, I taught him a hard lesson: that if he wouldn’t rise to the occasion, I would. But it was also a wake-up call for him that parenthood requires teamwork, and I wasn’t going to do it alone.