My life on 3 hours of sleep

I always dreamed of being a mom, but the reality of having a baby is far more intense than I ever imagined. My little girl is my world, but sadly, I can’t say the same about my husband these days. When our baby was born, I thought we’d be a team. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He always has an excuse ready. "Let me rest; my paternity leave is so short," he says as he sinks into the couch or immerses himself in his hobbies.

Meanwhile, I barely sleep three hours a week. My little one never sleeps for more than an hour at a time, and I’m the one taking care of her constantly. I can’t even remember the last time I ate properly or sat down without feeling my eyes burning from exhaustion.

Last week, everything reached a breaking point. We had a family gathering to introduce our baby to everyone. Exhausted but determined, I did my best to host, smile, and pretend everything was fine. During lunch, my vision started to blur, and before I could ask for help, I fainted in the middle of the room.

When I woke up in the bedroom, my husband was furious. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone! Now they’re going to think I don’t take care of you two!" He seemed more concerned about his image than the fact that I had just collapsed from exhaustion. I couldn’t respond. I just turned away and tried to sleep.

The next day, the tension in the house was unbearable. He ignored both me and our daughter. I was starving and angry but couldn’t even muster the energy to cry. The silence in the house was broken by the doorbell ringing.

Dragging myself to the door, I expected it to be a delivery or something mundane. But when I opened it, I saw the last person I expected—my mother.

She looked at me with concern and, before I could say anything, stepped inside and hugged me. "Sweetheart, I knew something wasn’t right. I got messages from your aunt last night, and she was very worried about you."

I couldn’t hold back the tears. "Mom, I’m so tired... I can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t help, and I’m carrying it all on my own."

My mom glanced at the couch where my husband sat, pretending not to hear our conversation. "Excuse me," she said, walking toward him.

"You do realize she needs help, don’t you?" my mom began, her tone firmer than I’d ever heard.

"I work hard. I’m tired," he replied defensively.

"We’re all tired," my mom shot back. "But you’re a father now. Being a father isn’t just a title—it’s a responsibility. If you think this isn’t fair, imagine what she’s going through. Sleeping three hours a week while taking care of your daughter and running this house."

He was silent, but for the first time, he looked uncomfortable.

My mom turned to me. "Pack a bag, sweetheart. You and the baby are coming with me. You need rest, and he needs to think about what it means to be a father."

"I can’t just leave like that," I said hesitantly.

"You can, and you should," my mom replied. "Because no one can care for your daughter if you fall apart. And more importantly, no one can demand that you sacrifice yourself alone while he watches from the sidelines."

After a few minutes, I realized she was right. With the baby in my arms and my bag packed, I followed my mom to the car.

As I closed the door to the house behind me, my husband finally got up. "Wait," he said, looking shaken.

I looked at him, but this time there were no tears in my eyes. "I’ve been waiting for you all this time. Now it’s your turn to decide if you want to be part of this family or not."

And with that, I left. Sometimes, we have to choose ourselves for others to realize our worth.