Ivory screams at the top of her lungs every hour. Screams. She does not cry. She screams. Every night is the same. I wake up every hour, feed her, change her diaper, I'm a good mom. I'm a good mom. I say it until I believe it, which deep down, I don't. I know I don't.

"Babe, I'll get her, go back to sleep," Vic says as he kisses my forhead after pushing my hair out of my face. He's such a great dad. I watch as he holds our baby girl in his arms, rocking her side to side like she's a fragile vase. She's perfect, he's perfect. She does so well with him and always gives me a hard time. I love my baby, but she's driving me insane.

Sleep. I need sleep. I cringe to the sound of her screaming at this point. I just want some fucking sleep. I just need some fucking sleep.

Notes

the story seems to get boring, I'm sorry! I'm thinking! :c