Midnight Feeding

                                        Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

‘Sleep’ is the one word connecting every new parent. The crash came unexpectedly. Post partum; my baby girl’s mom unable to differentiate hallucinations and reality. None of us slept that night. In healthy situations its hard to come by.  Ours wasn’t healthy. My daughter had it rough that first year. Mom was hospitalized with psychotic episodes. I worked two jobs. Psych meds and the hospitalization meant breastfeeding was out. Coming home at midnight the one a.m. feeding fell to me.

Bottle feeding is a long process. My daughter was more about the sip than the swig. Feed than sleep, that’s the cycle. This night I’d lay her down; she’d start crying. Pick her up, she’d stop. Not normal, she’s sick.

 I lay down on the carpet, Sweet Pea on my chest. She is calm. Her frailty nestles in my arms; my frail self holding her. Both curled up in stronger arms. I speak to myself with a conviction I don't know I possess, “This is what love looks like. This is fatherhood.”