Those days of urine waterfalls in the WC and drinking rivers of milk, a result of the pregnancy of my suffering wife. Ingesting things that would have sickened a goblin, such cravings. And worries about her shape vomited forth depression and can you really care?
Those mornings with our shared nausea, sympathetic on my side. A woman fears losing with such a change.
A deluge of tears and refusing touch because she feared the end of our togetherness.
Then the birth with that post-partum funk fogging the house.
After the mountains of excrement, diapers, and late nights, the sun finally shown again.
Later, the empty nest. That\'s another story.