Childbirth was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But the real challenge came afterward—when my husband refused to pay his share of the $9,000 hospital bill.
“It’s in your name,” he said. “You handle it.”
I couldn’t believe it. We had always split costs equally. But suddenly, bringing his child into the world was my expense alone.
So, I stopped splitting anything. No more reminders for his appointments. No more washing his clothes. No more favors.
When he complained, I said, “I’m just sticking to my responsibilities, like you wanted.”
The wake-up call came at a family dinner. I casually mentioned the bill—and his refusal to help. The judgment in his parents’ eyes was instant. His mother shook her head. “That’s not how marriage works.”
By morning, he had transferred half the money.
Now, we’re in therapy, learning what true partnership means. But I’ll never forget this lesson: love shouldn’t come with conditions.
