“Please don’t take him away from me. I swear to God, I would never hurt him.”
Caleb slumped against the changing table.
“I know you wouldn’t,” I said. “Caleb, look at me; you’re overwhelmed. All good parents feel that way sometimes. Do you think I haven’t cried in the shower because I didn’t know how to make him stop crying?”
A single sob escaped him, and he shook his head.
“When he cries with me, I feel like he knows I’m not enough. I wanted bedtime to be mine. I wanted one thing I could do without you. I thought if it were just us, he’d eventually love me as much as he loves you.”
Jeremy started to fuss, sensing the tension.
“I wanted one thing I could do without you.”
“Normal fathers don’t text their dead moms,” Caleb said.
“Normal fathers miss their mothers,” I countered. “Especially when they’re trying to figure out how to be a parent themselves.”
His eyes filled up again, and that time, he let the tears fall. “I didn’t know how to tell you I’m not good at this. I wanted to be the guy who has it all together. The safe guy.”
“You’re learning. Just like I am. We’re both rookies, Caleb.”
“Normal fathers don’t text their dead moms.”
I set the phone on the dresser. “No more hiding. From now on, we’re a team. And tomorrow, we’re going to call a therapist. No arguments.”
Caleb looked at me, searching my face for any sign of judgment or lingering fear.
“You really don’t think I’m a bad father?”
“I think you’re a very tired one who misses his mom.” I leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Now, let’s get this baby off to sleep together.”
Caleb nodded. He offered me the armchair, and for the first time, we got Jeremy to sleep together.
“Now, let’s get this baby off to sleep together.”
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