Her day
It is 3 a.m. and you are feeding the baby again. Your body and mind have changed in ways you cannot fully explain.
The baby is the centre of everything. You barely notice the rest of the room—or the person standing in it. By evening there is nothing left to give. You make dinner, because that is something you can still do.
His day
You come home after a long day, hoping for a moment of connection: a hug, a question about your day, a sign you were missed.
Dinner is on the table. Your partner is with the baby. The kiss on the cheek, the hand on your shoulder, the small gestures that used to be there—they have quietly stopped.
You eat quietly and wonder where you fit now.
The build-up
Weeks pass. Nobody says anything. Then one evening, an argument starts over something small—the dishes, a missed call—that was never really the issue.
Stay with that for a moment. Notice what you feel: loneliness, guilt, resentment, sadness, or something else entirely.