The Nesting Instinct Is Real—And My Husband Learned the Hard Way

I’ve always been a planner by nature. Spreadsheets soothe me, comparison charts are my love language, and I don’t so much make to-do lists as I live by them. So naturally, as soon as I found out I was pregnant, the research phase began. I dove headfirst into baby gear deep-dives, product reviews, safety guides, and Pinterest nursery boards like it was my full-time job.

But while I was always in planning mode, the nesting instinct—that overwhelming, almost primal drive to prepare my home for baby—kicked in with a whole new intensity around week 26, near the end of my second trimester. That’s when the light organizing turned into full-blown curation, sanitizing, and emotional attachment to every item in the baby’s room.

And yes—it’s backed by science.

What Nesting Looked Like for Me

For me, nesting wasn’t just tidying up—it was a full-on, research-fueled operation. I read every product review. I created spreadsheets comparing bottle nipple flow rates and bookmarked entire Reddit threads about baby monitors. I spent hours curating the perfect diaper bag setup and hunted down the softest, non-toxic crib sheets known to momkind.

I even opened baby gear boxes with surgical precision. No dust, no fingerprints, no “we’ll clean it later” attitudes allowed. Every single item in that nursery was placed with care, sanitized within an inch of its life, and lovingly—okay, obsessively—approved.

And you know what? I enjoyed it.

If you’re in the thick of nesting right now, I want you to hear this: there’s no need to feel guilty, dramatic, or “extra” about it. Nesting is a beautiful, natural part of motherhood. It’s your body and heart’s way of preparing a safe space for your baby. You are being given a gift by nature—an instinctual drive to prepare—and you’re allowed to lean into it with pride.

That said, I do understand how it can feel overwhelming. It’s a lot. Especially for anyone in the blast radius of your nesting storm...

The Time My Husband Almost Ruined Everything (Accidentally)

So let’s talk about the baby room debacle.

We have a couple of properties, and my husband's best friend was coming to town with his girlfriend. Naturally, my sweet, well-meaning husband wanted to be a good host. In an act of extreme misjudgment (and zero consulting), he offered the nursery—the very nursery I had been curating and sanitizing with Olympic-level intensity—as their place to stay.

I only found out after he told them.

My reaction? An immediate, resounding, and deeply hormonal: “NO.”

I couldn’t believe it. The baby's room? Where I had lovingly rolled tiny swaddle blankets and arranged books by color and size? Where the air practically sparkled from being diffused with lavender and sterilized weekly?

Nope.

He had to sheepishly go back and tell them that his very pregnant wife said “absolutely not.” Thankfully, his best friend and his girlfriend were totally understanding. We ended up offering them one of our other properties to stay in—still generous, still cozy, just not filled with our unborn child’s meticulously curated belongings.

How My Husband Coped

To his credit, my husband was a trooper. Nesting probably looked wild from the outside—but he rolled with it.

Did he totally understand it? No. Did he sometimes say things like, “Do we really need two strollers?” Sure. But he also built and hauled furniture, gently steered me away from obsessing over the molecular structure of laundry detergent, and reminded me to make time for self care in the form of massages, pampering, or anything else I might need.

One thing that made a huge difference for both of us was a book called The New Father by Armin A. Brott (recommended by friends who had just gone through it themselves). It quickly became his go-to guide. It walks expectant dads through what to expect week by week—physically, emotionally, and relationally—and offers honest, practical advice on how to support your partner, prepare for baby, and keep your cool along the way.

He’d often quote it back to me, saying things like, “Okay, this week your hormones are spiking—this is normal,” or “The book says you might be feeling super productive right now.” It helped him not take things personally, and it helped me feel seen and understood, even when I was crying over strollers or obsessing over finding "clean" products that would work for my baby's skin.

In his own way, he was nesting too—just with a little more chill and a helpful manual in hand.

To All the Nesting Moms Out There

If you’re knee-deep in labeling baby drawers or steaming curtains at midnight, let me be the voice that says: you are not being ridiculous. You are not overthinking. You are nesting—and it is a beautiful thing.

Let yourself embrace it. Whether it’s calming or chaotic, detail-driven or emotionally charged, it is your brain and body doing exactly what they’re wired to do: create a warm, safe place to welcome your baby.

Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re doing “too much.” You’re preparing in the most instinctual way a mother can—and that’s something to honor, not hide.

Final Thoughts

Nesting during pregnancy is powerful. It can be fulfilling, overwhelming, funny, and sometimes slightly off the rails. But it's all part of the process. Whether you're diving into deep research mode like I did or scrubbing baseboards on a Tuesday at 9 p.m., you're doing it with love—and purpose.

So to all the planning moms, the organizing moms, the overwhelmed moms, and the spreadsheet-loving moms: this instinct is a gift. Trust it. Enjoy it. And maybe warn your husband before he offers the nursery to guests.