When our daughter Rosie was six months old, I was exhausted from late-night feedings and endless tasks. One night, I gently asked my husband Cole to handle a diaper change, but he refused, saying it wasn’t “a man’s job.” His words stung deeply, and I felt completely alone in that dark nursery. Cleaning our crying baby, I wondered who would support me while I supported everyone else. That night, I decided something needed to change.
I thought about the phone number I once found among Cole’s childhood things — his estranged father, Walter. We had spoken briefly after Rosie was born, and I sensed regret in his voice. Desperate for a wake-up moment for Cole, I called Walter and asked him to visit the next morning. When Cole came downstairs and saw him sitting in our kitchen, the shock on his face said everything. Walter quietly shared how avoiding parenting responsibilities had cost him his family.
