Every night, after midnight, Mark goes on his kitchen raids. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if it didn’t hit me so hard. He literally eats everything—meals I prepped for the next day, my lunch leftovers, you name it. When you’re 8 months pregnant and wake up to find no food, then have to either cook again or run to the store, it’s just exhausting.

We’ve talked about this so many times, but he just laughs it off and suggests I should simply make more or stash away some special snacks for myself. It feels like he’s not taking any of this seriously, just treating it as a quirky thing he does.

So, last Thursday night really showed me how bad it’s gotten. I spent the afternoon cooking up a big batch of my favorite chili, thinking it would last a few days and was even considerate enough to make extra for Mark.

But come 1 AM, there I am, woken up by pots banging. I find Mark in the kitchen, helping himself to nearly all the chili. “Babe, I was just so hungry, and it smelled so good,” he tried to explain, clueless about the effort I put into making it last. “I made that chili so we could have meals ready for the week. We can’t keep doing this. I’m totally out of energy, and it’s really not fair,” I told him.

His solution? “Why don’t we just make more tomorrow?” I was too tired to argue and just went back to bed, but I knew something had to change. I couldn’t keep up like this, not this far into my pregnancy.

Things just kept going the same way. Mornings where I’d find my meals and snacks gone were becoming the norm. It was draining, and after one morning of finding out he’d eaten the lasagna I’d planned for lunch, I hit my breaking point.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by grocery bags because I was too worn out to put them away, I called my sister. I was in tears, telling her how Mark’s eating habits were leaving me hungry and messing up my sleep every night.

She said, “You need to chat with his mom or something. This is way bigger than just annoying—it’s messing with your health.” That was my wake-up call. If anyone could get through to Mark, it would be his mom.

So, I called her up. It was tough, but I laid it all out—the nightly disruptions, my anxiety about food, and how tired I felt. She was super concerned and promised they’d help sort this out.

Mark’s parents said they were popping over the next weekend to see how things were with the baby stuff, but they had another plan—to tackle the night eating. His mom, Linda, took over the kitchen like a boss, whipping up some of my favorite dishes and packing them in containers labeled “For Mom-to-Be Only.” Meanwhile, Mark’s dad, Mike, installed lockboxes in our pantry and fridge.

“These are specially for you, and we’re making sure you have what you need,” Linda told me. Mike joked a bit as he handed me the keys, “Just a little reminder for our son to think before he eats.”

That night was the moment of truth. Mark hit the kitchen like usual but found himself locked out of the stash. The notes his mom left cracked him up but got the message across, like one saying, “Think of your pregnant wife—grab an apple instead!” He grabbed an apple and that was that.

The next morning, Linda decided it was time for a heart-to-heart. “We need to talk about these kitchen trips. They’re not just affecting you, but they’re hitting our daughter-in-law hard, and she needs her rest and nutrition,” she started. Mark looked pretty sheepish and finally got it. “I didn’t realize how serious this was. I see now how it could really mess with her health and our baby’s.”

After that talk, things around the house started to get better. Mark stuck to the new rules, and his trips to the kitchen were much more considerate. He even started helping out with meals more, which was a huge relief.

Our relationship really started to blossom again as we got closer to the due date. The whole ordeal with the nighttime snacking, though stressful, brought us closer together. We learned a lot about tackling issues head-on and supporting each other no matter what.

As we wait for our baby, we’re not just excited—we’re a stronger team now. The intervention solved the immediate problem and ended up enhancing our bond, ensuring we’re ready for parenting with love, humor, and yes, a few well-placed locks. Looking back, I’m just so thankful for how it all turned out. We’re ready for whatever comes next, knowing we can handle it together as a solid team.

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