“After a Night Shift, I Fell Asleep at the Laundromat with My Baby — Opening the Washer Left Me Speechless”

“I’m not ready for this,” he said, like fatherhood was a shirt he couldn’t wear. By my fifth month, I stopped checking my phone for him.

Now it’s just me, my mom, and Willow against the world. Mom helps while I work, and I tell myself the tight feeling in my chest is gratitude, not guilt. But she already raised kids once. She didn’t sign up for late-night bottles and diaper changes at 61, yet she does it without complaint.

We live in a small rented apartment on the second floor of an old building. The rent is okay, but there’s no washing machine. Laundry piles up, and I haul it down the street to the laundromat with its blinking neon sign and sticky floors.Continue reading…