Maybe our friends are playing the part in public and secretly struggling. Maybe our moms suffered in silence for years and now, 30 years later, they simply don’t remember how hard it really was. Or maybe, and this is something I berate myself over every single day, I’m just not as qualified for the job as everyone else. And as much as I cringe just thinking it, I’m going to say it: I need more help.
Part of me feels like a failure for even asking. I mean, you do help. You are an amazing father, and you do a great job with the kids. And besides, this should come easy to me, right? Motherly instincts, no? But I’m human, and I’m running on 5 hours of sleep and extremely tired. I need you.