Nothing prepares you for the shock of childbirth—not the pain, not the exhaustion, and certainly not your husband refusing to pay his share of the hospital bill.
When the $9,000 bill arrived, I handed it to my husband, expecting us to tackle it together. Instead, he shrugged. “Your name’s on it, not mine.”
I was stunned. “I was in the hospital because of our baby,” I argued.
He didn’t budge. “I bought all her stuff. This is your cost.”
That’s when I realized: if he wanted to nickel-and-dime our marriage, I could too.
I stopped doing anything that wasn’t “my responsibility.” No more folding his laundry, no more remembering his meetings, no more cooking his favorite meals. When he asked why, I smiled and said, “Just following your logic.”
The turning point was a family dinner. As our parents admired our newborn, I mentioned the bill—and his refusal to help. The looks on their faces were priceless. His father, usually quiet, said, “Son, you’re better than this.”
The next day, he paid half.
We’re still working through the damage, but I’ve learned one thing: marriage isn’t a scorecard. And I’ll make sure my daughter never settles for someone who treats it like one.
