I sat crying at my own dining room table while my husband Ryan confidently ate an enormous steak dinner filled with buttery mashed potatoes and garlic bread. My plate held nothing but a small piece of meat, raw vegetables, and a glass of ice water. He casually lectured me on portion control and discipline while I tried to keep from throwing a fork across the room. After washing the dishes I took our two month old daughter Kelly upstairs to nurse her. I completely broke down in tears because feeling your own stomach rumble while actively feeding your child is a deeply agonizing psychological pain.

Ryan and I struggled for years with expensive fertility treatments to conceive our precious baby girl. The hormones completely changed my body shape long before my pregnancy even finished the job. Ryan was incredibly supportive during the nine months I was pregnant, but he quickly turned cruel and critical once Kelly safely arrived.

My tough mother in law Michelle arrived unexpectedly and immediately noticed the ridiculous digital code lock hanging from our refrigerator. When Ryan went upstairs to sleep, she handed me a massive slice of meat pie and asked where he kept the keys to his prized new sports car.

Before Ryan could even demand she remove the embarrassing equipment, several cars arrived carrying his father, grandfather, and uncles who set up lawn chairs in the driveway. Michelle forced him to publicly explain why he locked food away from his nursing wife in front of his entire family. His older relatives openly mocked him for being foolish while demanding that he treat the mother of his child with absolute respect. Ryan finally apologized to me and immediately removed the locks from the kitchen.