Midnight in the Trenches of Parenthood

Picture this: it’s midnight.
You went to bed exhausted, clinging to the dream of a full night’s sleep. Then—jolt. A sharp, piercing cry slices through the darkness.

You roll over and see it—two tiny feet sticking straight up from the bassinet beside the bed.

You rub your eyes, drag yourself upright, and shuffle over. Baby is awake. Baby is unhappy. And baby is making sure the entire neighborhood knows about it.

You scoop her up and head to the nursery. Time to run through the checklist:

• Diaper? Changed.
• Skin? No rash, no irritation.
• Any hair tourniquets or scratches? Clear.

Still crying. Still kicking. Still wiggling like she’s auditioning for the Baby Olympics.

You sigh. Bottle time.
While holding her in one arm, you bounce and rock and somehow manage to get the formula ready. Finally—finally—you get her into position and slip the bottle into her mouth.

She settles… sort of. Every third or fourth suckle, she lets loose, spewing milk down her chin. You pull back, wipe her face, and—yep—instant outrage. The cycle repeats for another twenty minutes until it’s time to burp her.

Cue the crying, whining, and wiggling. You bounce and pat. And pat. And bounce. Still no burp.

By now, you’re exhausted. Frustrated. You’d give anything to crawl back into bed and shut your eyes for just five minutes. You feel at your wits’ end.

Oh, the joys of parenthood.

It’s hard to remember in the moment, but crying and squirming is the only language she has right now. Every wail is a request—hold me, change me, feed me, help me.

Some of the best advice I ever got was this:

“A crying baby is a breathing baby. Take a step back and breathe before you go back in.”

On nights like this, I hear those words in my head. When the frustration creeps in, I’ll set her down for a minute. Take a deep breath. Grab some water. Reset.

Then, I go back in.

Because as hard as these nights are, they’re just a part of the story we’ll tell later—the nights that test your patience, but also remind you just how much love you can pour into a tiny, squirming human at 2 a.m.