My name is Nicola, and this is about the worst homecoming of my life.
A month ago I gave birth to triplets. The delivery was brutal and I stayed in the hospital forever, but we made it. I expected a warm welcome at home — balloons, help, anything. Instead, my husband Sam stood in the doorway criticizing me and didn’t even look at the babies. The apartment reeked and was filthy, covered in trash, dirty dishes, and flies.
When I confronted Sam, he blamed me and said no one had been cleaning. Then he posted a photo of our mess on Instagram calling me “slobby” and strangers called me useless.
Hurt and furious, I planned a “celebratory dinner” but instead blindfolded Sam and took him to a family intervention. I showed everyone Sam’s post and photos of the mess and explained how he had done nothing to take care of our home while I recovered and cared for three newborns.
With family watching, Sam had nothing to defend himself with and eventually admitted he hadn’t helped. I told him I was taking the girls to my parents unless he cleaned up, corrected his post, and proved he could change.
That night he posted a new photo of himself cleaning, admitting he was wrong. I don’t know if he’ll truly change, but I won’t be humiliated again. Sometimes people need to be made uncomfortable before they listen.