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
