“After Our Baby Was Born, My Husband Saw Their Face—and Started Sneaking Out Every Night!”

I went. Eight women sat in folding chairs, all wearing the same hollow, startled look I’d carried for weeks. We talked about birth trauma, how it fractures both parents differently, and how avoidance is the mind’s clumsy way of protecting what it loves. The leader said, “With support and communication, couples come out stronger.” For the first time in weeks, I felt hope stir.

That night, I stayed up. Lily slept against my chest. When Ryan came in, surprise flickered across his face—I rarely stayed awake anymore.

“We need to talk,” I said softly. “I followed you.”
He closed his eyes, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“We’re a team,” I said, moving closer.
He looked at Lily, then at me. “I was so afraid of losing you both,” he whispered, touching her tiny hand.
“You don’t have to be afraid alone anymore.”

Two months later, we’re in couples counseling. He still goes to his group; I still go to mine. Every morning, he takes Lily first, presses his cheek to hers, breathes in that warm milk scent, and looks at her fully—love unshadowed. Nightmares come less often, and when they do, he wakes me, and we walk the hallway together under the soft glow of a nightlight.

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