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Charlie slowly paced the room like a zombie. From the dresser to the window, to the rocking chair to the door. Over and over, back and forth. His arms were getting tired from holding the baby to his chest, but he didn’t dare move her away. The low light of the lamp shaped like a sheep threw the dark circles under his eyes into sharp relief.
He looked at the clock again, futilely seeing that it was 3:28am. If he had the mental power to do maths, he would know that he had been trying to get Amelia to sleep for the last hour and 20 minutes. But he was far too tired to add or subtract.
With nothing to keep him company but his own exhaustion, Charlie’s mind drifted from thought to thought, but kept coming back to the same question: Why?
Why did he think becoming a parent was going to be rainbows and flowers all the time? Why do they make designer trainers for babies that can't walk? Why did he think that he and Nick would adapt to the new normal with no ripples in their relationship? Why are clothes so gendered, when gender roles are a social construct? And most importantly, Why won’t this child sleep anywhere but on a person??
Amelia was a gorgeous baby. She had black curls and warm amber eyes, a perfect combination of Spring (thank you, Tori) and Nelson. She was happy and bubbly, curious about everything around her. She rolled and sat up early and her babbling almost made sense from time to time. She loved to go for walks with Daisy, snuggled up in her baby carrier. She looked around in awe and wonder. She was a delight to anyone that knew her.
But she Would. Not. Sleep. At first, it was to be expected. Everyone knew that newborns were up constantly at night and exhaustion was the norm. Nick and Charlie went into the newborn stage knowing this. They both took paternity leave and were able to take turns getting a good night’s sleep and tending to their baby’s needs in the wee hours of the night.
All the books said that most babies will be sleeping through the night at six months. Amelia was now nine months old and had yet to sleep more than two hours at a time, unless she was on top of another person. They had tried every trick in the books, with little success.
Charlie shuddered thinking about their attempt to ‘cry it out’. Nick had been so upset by Amelia’s desperate cries that Charlie had to send him out of the house to take a drive. More than a hour into the heartbreaking ordeal, she had cried so hard that she threw up. Charlie gave in and called Nick home. They vowed never to try that again. It was horrible for all of them.
When Nick had to go back to work, the nighttime burden fell more on Charlie. He had more flexibility in his schedule and workload, and was generally a night owl who could function on less sleep than Nick. That’s why he was pacing around in a small, dimly lit bedroom at nearly 4am for the umpteenth night in a row.
His arms were nearly cramping from holding the heavy baby against his shoulder. His eyes were so heavy, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t fall asleep literally standing up. Surely she would be sound asleep enough to put her down now, right?
He silently approached her cot and very slowly, very carefully extended his arms and set the sleeping babe on her pale green sheets. She didn’t stir, so he inched his hands and arms from under her, praying to all the gods he didn’t believe in, that she would stay asleep. Once he was free, he slowly backed up towards the door, as quiet as a ninja.
So far, so good.
The door wasn’t latched, a lesson they had learned long ago, so there was no noise as he opened the door and backed into the hallway. He swung the door nearly shut and made his way to their bedroom, as quietly as possible.
He sighed in relief as he slid into the cool sheets of their large, comfortable bed and pulled the duvet up to his chin. He didn’t think anything could feel as good as letting all his muscles relax into the soft mattress. His tired, heavy eyes drifted shut, sleep moments away…..
Waaaaaah! Waaaaaaaah! came through the monitor, just as sleep was overtaking him.
Charlie sighed and took a deep breath, then got out of bed and returned to the nursery. Amelia was sat up in her cot, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks.
“Oh angel,” Charlie said wearily, “whatever are we going to do with you?” He lifted her to his chest and her sobbing instantly stopped. “You’re never going to sleep, are you?”
The only response was a hiccup and Amelia snuggling into his chest.
Charlie didn’t have the energy to pace, so sat in the padded rocking chair and began to slowly rock back and forth. Tears welled up in his own eyes, exhaustion weighing down his every molecule.
It was in these early morning hours that the frustration and hopelessness started creeping into him. He couldn’t help thinking that he was doing something wrong. If he was a good parent, his baby would sleep. Or maybe there was something wrong with her. Had the Spring DNA doomed her to a life of anxiety and agitation? How were they going to survive if she never slept?
A tear rolled down his cheek as the overwhelm took over him, but he kept holding and rocking. Because that’s just what parents do. They adapt to the child they are given, and do the best they can with what they have, in any given moment. So despite the bone deep exhaustion, he cuddled and rocked, over and over, even through his tears.