My Husband Refused to Help — So I Called the One Man Who Could Teach Him

At 2 a.m., our baby’s cries pierced the night, and I was already running on empty. When I asked my husband to take this one, he rolled over and muttered something that stopped me cold: “Changing diapers isn’t a man’s job.” I stood there in the dark, suddenly more awake than I’d been in days. Not from the noise, but from the sharp clarity of what his words truly meant. If he wouldn’t step up as a father, maybe it was time someone else showed him how. So I reached for my phone, scrolled to an old message, and…

It was just after 2 a.m. when Rosie let out the kind of cry that cuts through walls and souls. The kind that tells you the diaper’s not just wet — it’s apocalyptic. My eyes burned, body sore from being up multiple times already. I had a full day ahead with a work deadline breathing down my neck, and every fiber in me screamed for just five minutes of help.

I nudged Cole gently. “Can you take this one? I’ll grab the fresh clothes and wipes.”

He didn’t budge. Just rolled over and tugged the blanket tighter around him. “You do it,” he mumbled. “I’ve got an early meeting.”

I blinked. Was he serious? “Cole, I really need you. It’s bad.”