Part two - The Story of Jacob; The age 40 dad.
EVERY story has two sides. It is easy to think Marie is right about her view.
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Marie puts the baby to bed every night that she can. Once he is asleep she returns to the livingroom to spend time with Jacob. They chat a little and watch some shows. Typically they go to bed at the same time. They go to bed at midnight.
They both went to bed at midnight this night.
The baby still sleeps in their bed most nights, curled toward Marie like gravity only works in one direction. Jacob tries sometimes to settle him back down, but the baby arches and reaches for her anyway.
He is still trying to stop taking it personally.
Marie says she barely sleeps, but Jacob does not fully understand what she means by that. He does not sleep through the night either. They are all three in the same bedroom. When the baby cries out he wakes up just the same.
He feels bad about sleeping longer than her everyday, but at the same time he can not function without 8-9 hours of sleep. He works 40 hours a week, he cooks, he cleans, he washes the clothes, he does everything except the baby. If he gets less than seven hours, he feels it all day — foggy, irritable, useless at work and home. He can’t stay away all night like he use to when he was in his 20s. Every lost hour now is felt.
So when the baby wakes in the night, he wakes up and he waits patiently for the baby to quiet. Usually the crying stops once Marie nurses him.
About 7:00 a.m. the baby cries out that he is done with the bed and Marie gets up. Marie seems to wake up just fine. Moving quickly. Doing things. Looking tired, sure, but still she is functioning.
On this particular day, he assumes she ate breakfast while feeding the baby like normal. Marie didn’t complain about being hungry.
After he got ready like every Sunday these past 4 months by 8:30 a.m. He found Marie and him in the bed reading. He grabs him up and he changes the diaper before they leave the house.
Then the cat poops in the hallway… again. She has been having issue for a while and Marie verbally gets mad but never really does anything.
Jacob watches Marie explode and honestly thinks:
That cat and her have hated each other for years.
Maybe the cat is doing this because you yell at her.
The other cat gets baby talk and forehead kisses. This one gets yelled at like an unemployed roommate.
He hears Marie snapping in the kitchen, cabinets shutting too hard, the stress spreading through the house before church.
He silently eats breakfast out of the way in the livingroom. He doesn’t want to upset Marie anymore than she is. He quietly walks by and grabs his son to head to the car.
“Where’s his pacifier?”
“I don’t know.” Sharp. Fast. A warning shot.
I know you are mad but I don’t know why.
Why not say you forgot it?
We both forget, but today it is “I don’t know”
Jacob silently goes back inside to find one.
A few minutes later, they are in the car. Baby buckled. Pacifier found. Running a little late, but fine.
Silent car ride to church.
I have no idea how to save this day!
She is never silent in the car I know she is mad but I have no idea what is wrong.
Is this just the regular poop of the day? or did I do something?
They make it to church. He gets the baby out of the car, carries him inside to their favorite seats. He hold him until the first song is over.
He reaches for the baby, trying to help, but the second he takes him, the whining starts. Tiny hands reaching back toward Marie.
People are looking.
Neither of them likes when the baby cries in church. So Jacob gives him to Marie for the rest of church.
During the homily, he notices Marie staring straight ahead without really blinking.
Again, Marie starts quietly crying.
Jacob sits there confused, searching the morning for the thing he missed.
I set my alarm from 7:45 a.m. like normal.
I got him at 8:30 a.m. like normal.
I changed the diaper before putting his church clothes on like normal.
I noticed we forgot his pacifier.
AND I went back inside to get it.
He glances at his wife, exhausted beside him, and thinks the thought so many partners quietly think postpartum:
I don’t know what I did wrong.
How can I fix this?