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My water had broken, and the pain was bad enough that I thought I might die, but Eric Palmer sat there peeling an apple as though nothing were happening. Between contractions, the nurse pushed Eric to sign the forms so they could wheel me into the delivery room. Instead, he held the apple up to my mouth and gently wiped the cold sweat off my forehead. I gritted my teeth and reached for his hand. He took mine, and then he pulled a document out of his briefcase. It was a voluntary waiver of marital property rights. "Honey, having a baby is risky," Eric said. "If you love me and not my money, sign this first. Then I'll have the doctor give you the epidural. Okay?"