NOVEMBER 12
I paced the living room, back and forth, trying to be gentle as I rocked my daughter. My week-old child was screaming her head off. I was trying my best not to panic. I didn't know what was wrong with her. I'd finished feeding her about ten minutes ago. I'd burped her. She had a clean diaper. She'd had a nice, long nap before she'd been fed.
I had no idea why she was crying. And there was nobody around who could help. Hunith was at the store, and Merlin was fast asleep in the bedroom. I was amazed that she was able to sleep at all through this racket. Then again, she was exhausted. She needed the nap.
And there was no way I was going to go and wake her up. I could do this. I was determined.
But apparently determination wasn't enough to keep a child from crying.
Why wouldn't she stop, though? Was she getting sick? Or was I just a horrible father who didn't know how to do anything? "Come on, Harps," I begged. "Stop your crying. Stop crying for Daddy, please."
Harper just got louder.
I groaned.
The front door opened, and my mother-in-law came in, carrying grocery bags. She set the bags down, grinning at me. "Well, her lungs are certainly healthy. Do you want me to try to calm her down?"
"Yes, please." Without hesitation, I passed Harper to her grandmother.
Hunith cooed, rocking the baby. Harper didn't stop crying entirely, but she did get a lot quieter. Why had she just gotten louder for me? Did she hate me that much?
"Let me see her," I heard Merlin say, and then she was standing next to me.
"We can take care of her. Go back to bed, Merlin. Your mom and I have got this."
She shook her head, smiling tiredly. "You obviously don't 'got this.' If you did, she wouldn't be crying. Let me see her, Mom. I'll calm her down."
Hunith handed the baby to my wife. Almost immediately, Harper stopped crying. She curled into her mother's chest, sighing contentedly.
I threw my hands up in the air, frustrated. "She hates me, I swear!"
"She doesn't hate you," Merlin assured.
"Sure seems like it," I muttered under my breath.
