A father’s view of motherhood

My child cries in the night. Nine out of ten times I can calm her. Nine out of ten times I can get her back down for the night. The one in ten times is another story entirely.

If you've ever been amidst a terrible storm, holding tight to the ground for fear of being swept away, then you understand the force of my daughter's cries and the helplessness I feel when she does. She shrieks in my ear. Tears roll down her cheeks. I hold her tight. I sing to her. I rock her. I walk her. I tell that everything will be alright, that this too shall pass. And still the cries like her world has shattered.

In swoops momma and scoops her daughter from my arms. That gentle touch is all it takes. The storm calms, the world is remade. I swear she falls asleep before her head is against her mother's chest.

I stand there, pride wounded, wondering what sort of sorcery she used, for surely it must be that. I am just a man, how can I possibly comprehend the bond between a woman and her child?