“ I spent ten years trying to save my brother from addiction — the rehabs I paid for, the calls at all hours, the bailouts. He is still using. My mother says I gave up on him because I finally stopped. ”
For the past fifteen months, our high-needs baby has been with us every day—my wife, his mother, and me. We were exhausted. I was working too, and even ordinary things like eating at a restaurant came with pressure: he might yell, speak loudly, or throw food on the floor. Then we started sending him to daycare. He had a good day, and seemed to be okay there. For the first time, my wife and I had a real day to ourselves. We ate at a restaurant, talked, had fun, and did not feel under pressure. There was space to be together again. When we went to pick him up, I was worried he might not be used to being away from us. He cried when he saw us and reached his arms toward me. I hugged him tightly for a few seconds, then he turned to his mother and asked for a hug. After she hugged him, he came back to me. He wanted both of us to be there. I wanted to ask him, “How was your day?” I did not want him to feel bad. If he wanted a hug, we would give him a big one. Afterward, I spent two hours with him. We played, went outside, and took a walk nearby. Usually I was too busy and my day felt broken up by his crying, but this time I had been able to work and live more steadily. At the end of the day, I really wanted to be with him. Everything felt more regulated. He had a good day, my wife and I had a good day, and then we had a good time together. I think a little distance can be important, no matter how much you love someone. My biggest wish now is that he keeps enjoying daycare.