The morning my wife went back to work, my mother accused us of “breaking the family.” I thought I could prove her wrong, but when our baby hit his first milestone, I made a choice that spiraled into the biggest lie of our marriage.
It was Jennifer’s first day back at work, but the kitchen felt like a courtroom. My mom leaned against the counter, watching my wife with the kind of look that could strip paint off a wall.
“You’re making a huge mistake. The baby needs his mother,” Mom said, wiping down an already-clean counter for the third time that morning.
Jennifer met her stare.
She didn’t blink or flinch. “I’m not abandoning him. I’m going back to my career.
There’s a difference.”
“We’ve been over this, Mom. Jen’s job pays more, and I’ve adjusted my hours to part-time remote. We’re doing what works for our family.”
Mom scoffed.
“Funny, it looks like you’re playing house and calling it progress.”
She headed back to her coffee, and the clink of her spoon against the ceramic mug punctuated her sentence like a judge’s gavel.
Case closed. Or so she thought.
I followed Jen to the door, and then something shifted.
Jennifer took Wyatt from my arms, and all that armor just dropped away.
She pressed a long kiss to the top of his head, closed her eyes. One second. Two.
Her breath caught.
“Promise me you’ll send videos of everything?”
I nodded. “Everything.”
She crossed the threshold, but then the vulnerability slipped out, quieter than a whisper.
I took her hand and squeezed it. “You’re doing what’s right.
He’s going to be proud of you one day.”
The door shut behind her, but not before I caught her eyes flicking to Mom one last time.
***
A few weeks later, I was on the floor with Wyatt when it happened.
He flipped himself over like he’d been planning it for weeks. I laughed and cheered.
This was big. Huge, actually!
You could barely tell what was happening in the video. I was too slow.
I tried to get Wyatt to roll over again, but he wouldn’t cooperate.
I stared at my phone, fingers hovering over the “share” option, and pictured Jennifer at her desk. I’d promised to take videos, but what good was this blur of movement? It was barely any better than some grainy YouTube footage of Chupacabra.
Reality hit like cold water.
I spent the rest of the day trying to recreate Wyatt’s first roll. That night, when Jennifer got home from work, I set him up in the living room for tummy time just like I had earlier.
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