My first wife left us when my son was still an infant—barely three months old. One morning she kissed his forehead, said she needed air, and simply never came back. For weeks, I walked around in a fog, doing everything I could to hold myself together for the tiny person who depended on me.
I learned to function on almost no sleep. I learned how to warm bottles with one hand and pay bills with the other. But nothing prepared me for the moments when the weight of being a newly single father hit all at once.
