My Husband Refuses to Help Me with Our Crying Baby at Night until I Fell Asleep Behind Car Wheel – Story of the Day

Bella, a new and exhausted mother, tries her best not to inconvenience her tired working husband Mark by asking him to take care of the baby at night. Things don’t change until a dramatic event scares the life out of Mark.

I can’t explain it. This feeling that fills my heart up to the brink, this joy that is so precious that I almost fear it…when I watch my little Jamie lying next to me, his tiny fingers wrapped around my finger, smiling in his sleep.

Jamie looks just like me, his Papa says. But that dimpled smile is all Mark. Look! Father and son look so peaceful, so rested in sweet sleep.

I should be sleeping, too. Instead, here I am, attempting to write my heart out. It’s been a month since my last note in this diary. And so much has happened in that time…so much has changed, including my husband, Mark!

I still remember how Mark would envy me for being on maternity leave. “Ah, nothing to do but feed the baby and sleep while he sleeps…sounds like a vacation to me!” he would joke.

But of course, there was more to that light-hearted remark, as I found out in the first few months after Jamie was born.

My Mark, the chivalrous man who once pampered me with weekly date nights and surprise gifts at my workplace, suddenly became withdrawn, worried, and oblivious to the woman he was madly in love with.

We still loved each other, but it felt like there was now a glass wall between us, and I never really understood where that came from.

Mark couldn’t believe his luck when he held his beautiful baby boy in his hands – a boy was what he secretly wanted. He got four weeks of paid leave, and he didn’t waste a second being away from Jamie.

Mark did a hundred things in those four weeks: from rearranging the furniture to babyproofing the whole house, giving me foot rubs, to finally cleaning out his garage and selling some of his oldest possessions to start a small savings fund for his boy.

“What kind of a mother am I?” I wept, angry at myself for putting my innocent child in such peril.

But then, soon after Mark went back to work, something changed in him.

I could see that Mark came home exhausted, but when I would try to talk to him, he would simply withdraw and watch television instead.

I noticed him turn a deaf ear when I asked him to change Jamie’s diapers or make his bottle at night. “You do it, honey! I’m exhausted!” he would say and turn the other side before going back to sleep. My eyes hurt from the lack of sleep, but I felt guilty for even asking the poor man.

I didn’t think anything of it until I noticed he started refusing to help more often. And his tone toward me changed from kind to cold to angry over a few months. Had I done something wrong? I would constantly question myself and hated that I needed his help at all…

You see, I grew up hearing that motherhood was something that came naturally, and everything fell into place automatically.

I was raised to be independent, to not need help, and to be my own troubleshooter. But motherhood softened me. I was in a world of pain in the initial few months of becoming a mom. Nobody tells you that your whole body is left sore, your hormones push you into feeling low all the time, and your back feels brittle as chalk after you give birth.

So there I was, sleep-deprived and struggling, hoping my partner would just listen to me, hold me, and let me hold him.

It broke my heart that he didn’t.

Instead, Mark felt more and more absent; he refused to offer the smallest gestures of help, and his tone toward me became bitter and angry.

“Seriously, Belle? I’ve spent the day sitting through meeting after meeting, saving companies from major crises, and you can’t get up and get yourself the pack of wipes?”

That was the first time Mark had unleashed his anger, much to my shock.

“I can’t just cater to your every need and whim, Belle. I can’t always help you.”

“I’m sorry, hon! I didn’t mean to…”

“And please, you’re not fooling me with your sob story about being too tired and having no time. It’s the first few months! What do you even have to do all day besides watching Jamie, who sleeps through most of it and doing some basic house chores?”

I was exhausted, but I managed to smirk at my husband’s ignorance.

“I’m the one working endlessly. I’m the one breaking my back, handling the pressure of the ever-growing bills.”

“Can’t you get through a single day without bugging me to help with this or that? Get yourself together, Belle. Watch what kind of woman, what kind of mother you’re turning into…”

I had to stop him right there. The conversation was only going to hurt me further if it continued.

“All right, Mark,” I interrupted him. “I got it. You won’t hear any cries for help from me at night anymore!” I screamed, storming out of the room and grabbing a pillow I could cry into.

The week that followed was the most difficult week of my entire life, and it ended up almost killing me.

I pushed through my blinding bouts of pain and handled every task of the day myself. Every second Jamie was asleep, I was on my feet. Even at 2 a.m, I was washing dishes or cleaning bathrooms.

Mark was rather pleased, looking at me do everything on my own. “I was right!” he thought, until that one morning when I asked for his help again.

You have to understand I hadn’t slept a wink for three whole days by that point. It was a Saturday morning, and my body was shutting down to force some sleep into me. I had managed to sleep for about 30 minutes before the alarm buzzed and startled me. I wanted to get up, but my body didn’t move. That’s when I swallowed my pride and turned to Mark, who was fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

“Mark? I’m sorry, could you please take Jamie to the clinic today? He needs to get his shot, and we’ve also got to ask about teething…” I struggled to lift my head and wait for him to respond.

“Mark, honey? The appointment’s at–”

“Will you let me sleep? You know where the car keys are…you can take him yourself,” he muttered without opening his eyes.

I had no choice. Severely sleep-deprived, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, threw on some clothes, grabbed Jamie, and left.

I don’t remember a single thought I had on that drive to the clinic. Knowing me, I was probably worried about getting there on time. I remember flashes of the road, traffic picking up…and then the sound of metal and glass crashing into each other, jolting me like a nightmare.

The next thing I remember was struggling to open my eyes and wanting to scream in pain.

“Where’s…Where’s Jamie?” I asked, looking around, trying to figure out where I was.

“Honey, you’re awake!” a familiar voice held my face and kissed my forehead, his warm tears dripping on my face.

“Mark! What’s going on?” I tried to get up, but he stopped me.

“You’ve been unconscious for 11 days, sweetheart,” he told me, “and it’s my fault. I’m so sorry,” he touched my face again and burst into tears.

It was coming back to me in bits and pieces. There was an accident. A car had sped into mine. And I remember looking back, praying my Jamie was okay. That same fear rushed to my head in full force, and I asked Mark where our boy was.

“He’s all right. A kind nurse offered to walk him to sleep. Not a scratch on him, Belle!” Mark wiped my tears.

I felt like I could breathe again. I held Mark’s arm tight as he revealed the most shocking detail of the accident. I had fallen asleep at the wheel!

“What kind of a mother am I?” I wept, angry at myself for putting my innocent child in such peril.

“The clinic was 15 minutes away from our house. I couldn’t keep our baby safe for even 15 minutes…”

Mark forced my balled-up fists open, and I’ll never forget what he said next.

“It’s not your fault, Belle. It’s mine. When the doctors told me how severely sleep-deprived you were and how much pain you were in, I was ashamed. I realized I had been blind to what you were going through all these months. I thought I was going to lose you, Belle, and you saved me by waking up. Because I don’t know how I would’ve forgiven myself if you didn’t come back to me.”

At that moment, a nurse walked in, bringing in my heart, my Jamie.

I kissed him a million times and called him every sweet name I could think of. Then, I realized his diaper was full and needed to be changed.

Out of habit, I lay him down on my lap, forgetting that my hands were connected to drips and machines.

“No, let me. I want an equal part now, Belle. Not just in the cuddles and picnics and milestones – in all of this, too. No more sleepless nights for you!” he said.

And my heart melted at the sight of the two sweetest dimpled smiles in the whole world.

What can we learn from this story?

The best form of child support is equal parenting. Bella was an independent woman, and still, when she tried to do everything by herself, she collapsed. A father and mother sharing equal responsibility is the best way to beat the stress of childcare.

Let’s do something kind for the mothers we know. Mothers have a lot on their plate, and even a small act of kindness or help would mean a lot to them.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.


if you love reading stories like this you can also go to the publisher – AMO MAMA STORIES

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