Some of my worst moments are when I accuse my husband of not caring. Of treating our daughter’s chronic disease like a cold – something to be vaguely acknowledged but not overly worrisome.
I do this not because it’s the truth. My husband is one of the most informed fathers I know, especially when it comes to our little girl’s cystic fibrosis.
I do this because his approach differs from mine. It has from the beginning. The day the pediatrician called with the news that our daughter had tested positive for one mutation for cystic fibrosis, my husband was out of town. “Don’t worry,” he comforted from afar.Read more on themighty.com