Ten Months
Just when I think I’m getting the hang of things, days like today happen.
Everything that could possibly go wrong did, and then some. I knew we were in for a doozy of a day when she woke up screaming instead of her usual smiling and giggling. It was only downhill from there.
I got absolutely nothing done today–Little One simply refused to be anywhere but my arms all day long. Any attempts at nap time were a complete joke. No amount of playing, singing, or begging made one bit of difference.
By the time Jack got home in the evening, both of us were a complete mess. He walked into the kitchen at the exact moment when she decided that her sweet potatoes belonged anywhere but her mouth–whether that be her shirt, mine, or the floor.
Spoiler alert, it was all three.
“Whoa there,” he cried, stopping in his tracks. “Looks like someone had a hell of a day.”
“Nothing gets by you, Sherlock,” I snapped, snatching the plate off the floor and shoving it angrily into the dishwasher.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, gently gripping my shoulders. “Let me take care of that. Go take a breather, get cleaned up, scream into a pillow, whatever you need. I’ll finish up dinner.”
“Good fucking luck,” I snarled, wrenching out of his grip. “If I’m out of her sight for more than two seconds she starts screaming. It’s been like this all day.”
“It’s fine, I can handle it,” he said kindly, but firm. “We’ll be okay for five minutes.”
But here I am, standing in my closet trying to find something clean, but still comfortable, while my darling little terror wails at top volume down the hall.
Walking back into the kitchen, I find Jack standing wide-eyed, Erin stretched out rigidly in his arms while he desperately attempts to calm her down. The second she notices I’m back, her volume increases (something I did not think was possible), and tries to throw herself out of his hold. I rush over before she hurts herself, scooping her up and wearily patting her on the back as she cries into the crook of my neck.
“Has this been all day?” he asks quietly, mimicking my movements and rubbing circles on my back.
“Yes, it has,” I say through gritted teeth. “Life with a baby isn’t just sunshine and rainbows and giggles, Jack.”
“I know that,” he says patiently, which just infuriates me even more. “I've been here. I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard day.”
“Oh perfect, your sympathy has magically erased the emotional torment of the last ten hours,” I say sarcastically. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
I turn around, stalking down the hall to the nursery with Erin still crying relentlessly. I plop down in the rocking chair, violently ripping open my nursing bra and begging her to breastfeed.
“Please, baby girl,” I whine. “Please eat. Please relax. Please sleep. Please, please, please.”
Jack hovers in the doorway, looking helplessly concerned. The sight makes me want to rip my hair out.
“There’s nothing you can do, okay?” I say harshly. “Can you just go? Eat dinner, take a shower, whatever, just please leave us alone.”
To my annoyance, he doesn’t look angry or hurt. My outburst did not have the petty, emotional impact I was hoping for. Instead he just says “okay” in a neutral tone, and closes the door to the nursery before walking away.
After nearly two hours, Little One has finally cried herself out, sleeping peacefully in my arms like today was just another normal day. I’m terrified to set her down, worried that the second she notices my absence the vicious cycle will start all over again.
Every awful thought I fight so hard to keep at bay takes advantage of the newfound silence.
You aren’t cut out for this.
I told you you’d be a terrible mother.
This is never going to get easier.
You can’t do this.
Only this time, another vicious one joins the chorus.
Jack thinks he wants this now, but he won't forever.
