Baby Blues (edited)

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I fell asleep no more than ten minutes before Hope's cries woke me up again. For already the third time tonight. And it's literally not even three in the morning.

My mom explicitly warned me that sleeping is nearly impossible with a newborn, but damn. I'm so tired, and I don't know how Hope's not.

She's not even two weeks old, and I have already been drained of every ounce of energy within my body. Being a mom is a literal full-time job. I can't even pee in peace anymore.

I get out of bed, feeling more like a zombie than a human, and crawl over to Hope's crib. I lift her up and cradle her, silently praying she'll fall asleep quickly. But she doesn't. For the next five minutes, I cradle her and shift from heel to toe, and she just keeps crying. It's making me want to cry, too.

I only just fed her thirty minutes ago, so I doubt she is hungry, but I don't know what else to do.

"Hey." Brennan peeks around the ajar door before fully letting himself in. "Everything okay?" No.

Brennan's hair is a mess, and he's wearing a thin white cotton shirt and basketball shorts. He was most definitely sleeping, but Hope demands that everyone is awake when she is, so she's a loud crier. Chances are Brennan wakes up every time Hope and I do, so I know he's not getting much more sleep than me. And he's the one getting up to go to work in the morning.

"Sorry, she keeps waking you," I mumble. I take a seat in the wooden rocking chair that Craig gifted me at my baby shower back in September. He made it himself and told me that Shea would always sit in a rocking chair when Andrew was a baby, and she'd rock him right to sleep.

If only Hope was that easy to please. Being able to simply rock her to sleep would be a privilege.

"Don't be sorry, Helaina." He squeezes my shoulder.

"I just don't get why she won't sleep," I admit, the defeat crystal clear in my tone. I quickly shake the self-deprecation and look away from Hope to glance at Brennan. "You must be exhausted." I shake my head, feeling guilty. "You probably barely sleep, and you have to work."

Although I have some money saved, there's definitely not enough to provide all of the basic necessities for me and a newborn. My family and Andrew's are helping immensely, and Brennan is helping by paying rent for our apartment. And it kills me to put him through this exhaustion.

"Helaina," he sighs because it's not the first time we've had this conversation, and at this rate, it probably won't be the last. "Nothing I do at work is even comparable to everything you do for Hope. You work a million times harder than I do, guaranteed."

I want to thank him for his reassurance, but Hope starts to cry louder. My entire body sags in defeat.

"Let me give it go," he offers, holding out his arms. I don't argue, placing her in his arms. He holds her by his shoulder, rubbing her back gently and swaying from side to side. In two minutes, tops, Hope's cries go from loud to quiet to slower, then nonexistent, and she's sleeping again.

I look at him in disbelief, completely appalled.

Why is my brother, who is literally not a dad, better at being a parent than I am?

Tears fill my eyes, and Brennan, still swaying with Hope, looks at me in confusion. "Hey, why are you crying?"

I wipe the back of my hand over my face to dry it. As I do so, Brennan sets Hope down in her crib again.

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