My first wife left when our son was still an infant. I did my best, but most days felt like walking through life with weights tied to my ankles. Still, we kept going — one bottle, one diaper, one exhausted night at a time.
One evening, I was out to dinner with friends when my son needed a diaper change. I headed to the men’s room and found… nothing. No table, no counter, nowhere safe to set him. I must’ve looked lost because a woman exiting the ladies’ room paused and asked if everything was okay.
When I explained the situation, she peeked inside, saw it was empty, and said, “Go ahead and use it — I’ll make sure no one comes in.”
I thanked her and stepped inside, but a moment later she gently knocked and said, “Actually… it doesn’t feel right leaving you alone in here. I’ll just wait by the door.” Her voice was warm, not judgmental.
While I changed my son, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time — support. Quiet, simple, human support.
When I came out, she was still standing there with a soft smile. She said she’d been raised by a single father and admired anyone doing their best for their child.
That small moment changed my whole night. Maybe my whole week.
As I strapped my son back into his carrier, I felt something I thought I’d lost: hope.
Life is hard. Parenting alone is harder.
But kindness — even from a stranger — can make the weight feel lighter.
