Three AM. The apartment is dark except for the nightlight. Evan has been crying for two hours. I did everything I could, nothing’s working.
My body's still healing from the C-section. Incision burns, breasts sore from feeding. I haven't slept more than an hour at a time in two weeks. This is motherhood. This is what they don't tell you.
I hold him and walk in circles. The kitchen, living room, bedroom, and back.
"Please stop. Please. I don't know what you need."
He screams louder.
I check everything again. The diaper is dry, he just ate. He's not hot or cold. Nothing wrong. Except he won't stop crying. And I don't know how to help him.
I sit on the floor with my back against the couch and hold him against chest.
"I can't do this. I'm failing you. You need more than I can give."
