“Okay, out with it,” I said to my wife. She’d been keeping something to herself for a while, but I knew that she finally wanted to tell me about it.
I’m embarrassed to admit that sometimes being at work is more enjoyable than spending time with my family. At work, I get a respite from the diapers and discipline and demanding children, and can work with other (relatively) mature adults solving important problems. And for my efforts I can expect to receive accolades, promotions, and raises, which seems to me like a pretty good trade most days.
My wife and I were married in our late 20s and wanted to have children right away. So we eagerly awaited the end of each month to see if we had conceived, but after six months had passed, we began to fear that we might have a fertility problem.