I Heard Our Baby Crying While I Was in the Shower & My Wife Was Watching TV – When I Entered His Room, I Screamed in Shock
One night, while showering, I heard my 3-year-old son crying desperately. My wife was in the family room, absorbed in her iPad, ignoring his pleas. Rushing to his room, I found him sobbing, covered in red paint from a jar he’d knocked over—plus he’d wet himself. His pajamas, bed, and hair were a mess. “Mommy didn’t check on me,” he said, breaking my heart.
Frustrated, I confronted her. She claimed she’d tried three times but seemed detached. The neglect felt deeper than one bad night. I bathed him, seething, then packed bags for my son and me, heading to my sister’s for space.
I called my mother-in-law for insight. Days later, she revealed: my wife was battling depression. Overwhelmed by motherhood, she’d lost herself—her art, her identity—feeling trapped without saying a word.
Stunned, I reflected while solo parenting: exhausting days of tantrums and care showed me her silent burden. She’d sacrificed everything, and I’d missed her struggle.
She started therapy. Small changes emerged. One day, she called me home, tearfully apologizing: “I was lost; I want to be better for us.”
Months later, she painted again, with her mom’s help watching our son. Their bond mended through stories and drawings. Our family healed—imperfect, but together.
