The morning my wife, Jennifer, went back to work, the kitchen felt like a courtroom. My mom watched her with a look that could strip paint. “You’re making a huge mistake. The baby needs his mother,” she said. Jennifer didn’t flinch. “I’m going back to my career. There’s a difference.”
I stepped in with baby Wyatt on my hip. “Jen’s job pays more, and I’ve adjusted my hours. We’re doing what works.” Mom scoffed, but Jennifer held her ground. Before leaving, Jennifer’s armor dropped. She kissed Wyatt’s head and whispered, “Promise me you’ll send videos of everything?” I promised.
A few weeks later, Wyatt flipped over. It was big! I fumbled for my phone but caught only a blur. I pictured Jennifer at her desk and felt a pang of guilt. I couldn’t send her that grainy mess. So, I spent the day “recreating” the moment. When she got home, I set Wyatt up, held his favorite toy, and he rolled. Jennifer gasped and burst into tears of joy. “I can’t believe I was here to see that!” From her chair, Mom muttered, “Rehearsed.”
The lie became a habit. When Wyatt started crawling, I coached him with Cheerios all afternoon to ensure he’d perform for Jen that evening. My mom caught me recording a practice session. “I’m going to send this to Jennifer,” she threatened. I begged her not to. “I’m doing this for her!” Mom deleted it but warned, “I’m not lying for you anymore.”
But when Wyatt took his first steps while Jen was on a business trip, I couldn’t help myself. I hid beanbags in his onesie to make him wobble so he wouldn’t look too confident. When Jennifer came home and saw him “walk” for the first time, she squealed with delight. Mom gave me a hard look, asking Jen, “Don’t you find it strange you’re always here for these momentous occasions?”
The house of cards collapsed the day Wyatt said “Bye-bye.” Jen was glowing, but that afternoon, Mom casually pulled out her phone. “I took a video of Wyatt feeding the ducks yesterday,” she said. She tapped the screen, and the sound of Wyatt saying “Bye-bye” to the ducks—his real first words—filled the room. Jennifer’s smile faded into pained realization.
I began to stammer, but the damage was done. The biggest lie of our marriage had finally caught up with me.
