The Grand Battle

I’m in a crabby mood these days because I’m constantly battling a powerful need to give N instructions on how to take care of Klara. Because I’m such an expert, I’ve raised 63 babies to his zero. (This is sarcasm. Our baby experience is identical.) I’m fighting against the entire civilizational experience of women who first know better how to care for the baby and then spend a lifetime complaining how the baby’s father acts more like the baby’s sibling and how they are overwhelmed with responsibility and childcare work.

N is also valiantly struggling against the desire to wait for me to give him baby-caring instructions. He knows that if he doesn’t fight it, he’ll end up marginalized in his own family with a ruined sex life and a distant child. 

The good thing is that when we do defeat this pattern, Klara won’t have to experience it, think about it, or even know that it’s there. Once you solve a problem, it’s not inherited. And that’s very motivating.