One terrible night, I got out of the shower to the sound of my three-year-old son’s cries for help. My wife didn’t seem to notice the noise because she was focused on her iPad. As I rushed to our son’s room, I saw a scene that would change everything: my little boy was crying and covered in red paint.
After the initial shock, anger and worry set in. How could my wife have missed this? But as the days went by, a bigger problem became clear. Besides the paint and tears, my wife was depressed and was drowning in silence from being a mother.
I left with our son that night to give myself time and room to deal with my feelings. My mother-in-law told me that my wife had been having a hard time for a while and had lost her personality and sense of purpose. “Depression” was in the air, which woke me up and made me think about our position again.
As I took care of our son by myself, I realised how hard my wife’s work had been and how much it had affected her. Being a mother had broken her heart, making her feel stuck and lost.
When my wife started therapy, things started to change. She began to get better slowly and quietly. Her voice, which used to sound cold, broke with feeling as she said she was sorry she couldn’t be there.
Our family started to get better over time. The tie between my wife and our son started to heal when she found her love for painting again. I saw real connections happen when people read, laughed, and made art together.
Our journey wasn’t perfect, but we were getting better together. We learnt that even in the most loving families, sadness can sneak up on people without warning. And that telling someone you care about them is sometimes all they need to start their journey back to the light.
