My Most Important Job
As I was driving home from the hospital on the day my son was born, I kept getting images of his face in my mind, accompanied by an intense rush of emotion that was almost awwgasmic, as though the Universe was telling me: This is important; look after this. And I've obeyed that for nearly 14 years now.
My then-wife's clinical depression was exacerbated by post-natal depression, by anxiety and by obsessive-compulsive disorder. Looking back, I am surprised our marriage lasted as long as it did.
When our son was four, his mother left us and we didn't hear from her for three weeks. I have proudly been his primary carer ever since and although it's a tough gig, it is the most important job I have ever had.