I Called a Cow My Wife and Fed Our Child My Blood

On the day our daughter turned one month old, my wife’s first love stormed into our home, clutching his unconscious child in his arms. He slapped himself hard across the face as he dropped to his knees before me, banging his head against the floor over and over.

“If I hadn’t fallen ill and been hospitalized, I would’ve never dared to trouble you to watch my kid,” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “If you want to kill me, go ahead. But please, I beg you—spare my child!”

My wife, Ginny Yelts, furious beyond words, banished me to a cattle ranch to reflect on the concept of paternal love.