It was late at night when I heard it—the sharp, sudden cry of our newborn, Sophie. I had just laid her down in the crib, and she was already crying again. As I rushed to soothe her, I noticed Adam sitting on the couch, his face buried in his hands.
He was frustrated. I could see it in the way his shoulders were tense, the way he muttered under his breath. “She’s too loud,” he said, his voice thick with annoyance. I froze for a moment, unsure if I had heard him right. But then he repeated it. “She’s just too loud. I can’t take this anymore.”
I didn’t respond. What was there to say? Adam had never been this way before. When we’d talked about starting a family, he was excited—too excited, in fact. But now, only weeks after Sophie’s birth, it was as if he couldn’t handle the reality of parenthood. The crying, the sleepless nights—Adam had made it clear he couldn’t stand it. And worse, he blamed it on our baby, as if her cries were something she could control.