Recently, my husband and I became parents, and it’s been awful. Our baby screams nonstop in his crib day and night. We’ve tried doctors, specialists, formulas, meds, swaddles, white noise, and even a sleep consultant—nothing helped. I’m exhausted and broken, while my husband somehow always calms the baby after long hours.
One day I found a folded medical report under the mattress—my husband’s, dated before our wedding. It showed he was a genetic carrier of a condition likely passed to our baby and that symptoms should be managed with a sedative starting postpartum. He knew, and our baby was in withdrawal. He wasn’t comforting him—he was dosing him and hiding the truth. My world collapsed.