Your husband stands across from you in the kitchen, scratching his beard with a frown on his face as he watches you sob and eat the snack he’s just brought. “Darlin’, I can go back to the store and get you the right brand.” He says softly.

You shake your head, crying harder. Your pregnancy cravings have been brutal the past month. “No, really. This is great,” you cry, trying to smile.

John frowns. “Darlin’, please..”