I remembered a night about 5 months ago, and saw a ghost of my husband sitting in that corner crying while I rocked Lilah and nursed her, feeling like life was falling apart.I can't believe I haven't written about this before. Maybe it was so painful and stressful at the time, I blocked it out or couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt like I needed to, now that things have improved, so other new parents didn't feel so alone and lost. When I first went back to work, it was still only two days a week, but it was the first time Dano had been left in charge of the baby regularly for significant periods of time. I had plenty of milk stored up, so I wasn't worried about that. I was worried about the two of them getting along well and being able to handle each other.
It didn't go well. For the first several months, I would receive calls at work from Dano not knowing how to soothe her. Lilah would scream, and refuse a bottle entirely. Every night I came home, my husband would look like he had been hit by a car, and Lilah would clutch me and whimper. I felt helpless, like a failure as a mother and wife. My job was stressful enough without being paged because my family was in shambles and I was, apparently, the only one who could put it together again. Work was very understanding, and Dano frequently brought her up for me to nurse her and calm her down so she would sleep. It was frustrating and somewhat embarrassing to me, but it worked so who cared?
I didn't have time to realize this solution was only a Band aid to the real problem. One night, a resident was really losing it and getting violent. Dano showed up with a crying Lilah, and I nursed her as fast as possible, hoping against hope I could get them out of there before the resident came to this end of the building. I thrust her back in his arms as soon as she finished. He started talking about how he was frustrated, an argument he had gotten in with his dad, and I was making no effort to pay attention. The resident was headed toward us, and I was not having my husband and daughter attacked my a rogue woman with Lewy Body dementia. I have them a hard shove toward the door and took the punch from the woman that had been aimed at them. As soon as they'd made it out the door safely, I went back to my work. Disaster had been averted, but there was an obvious problem.
Dano was at the peak of frustration. He said he would never dream of shaking a baby, but he could see how people could get to that point. Many times, he would just have to put her in her crib, crying, to calm himself down. It broke my heart. My husband was as upset as I'd ever seen him, my normally perfect baby was barely functioning when I was gone, and I couldn't get through a night at work without solving a crisis at home. His mom came over to help several times, and that eased my mind somewhat.
One night, I came home to Dano pacing with a screaming Lilah. I took her and went upstairs to rock and nurse her. Dano came up, sat in the corner, and cried. His glasses were broken in half on the floor - in his frustration with Lilah wanting nothing to do with him, my completely pacifist, gentle husband had thrown them at a wall.
After that, he realized that his frustration was getting him nowhere and making Lilah more agitated. He grew gradually more patient. He didn't acquire any magical new skill, and it could be that as she got older, she got more adaptable and easygoing, but after that especially horrible night, it got better. He stopped calling me and bringing her up to work. She didn't freak out as often, and was easier to soothe when she did. It's been much easier since then, but those first couple months of me going back to work were horrible. Looking back, it amazes me we got through it without losing our sanity. Our family learned adaptation and patience, and all it cost us was a pair of glasses.
