As the party went on, Jake was everywhere. He was busy telling everyone, “I needed that paternity leave because I couldn’t imagine how exhausted I would be from working AND taking care of the baby.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I didn’t have the energy to confront him right then and there.

As I mingled with the others and tried to keep up appearances, my body finally gave out from utter exhaustion. I felt dizzy and clammy, and before I knew it, everything went black. I passed out in the middle of the party.

I woke up quickly and found myself surrounded by worried family members. They helped me up and someone handed me a piece of cake, telling me it might help get my blood sugar back up. As I reassured everyone that I was fine, just tired, I caught Jake’s frown.

I wasn’t sure what his look meant, but I could tell he was more concerned about his image than my well-being. People continued to worry about me, even though I insisted I was fine. I tried to push them away, because I was so used to handling everything on my own that a helping hand felt strange.

The drive home was quiet. Once I got there, Jake exploded because he was upset that I was embarrassing him, accusing me of making him “look bad.” He complained as he paced the kitchen:

“Don’t you see what I look like? Everyone thinks I don’t care about you!”

He even questioned my priorities because I went straight to bed instead of having a discussion with him. The next morning he ignored me and little Tilly. Instead he was absorbed in his own feelings which he thought I didn’t care about because I had gone to bed!

“I’m not your enemy, Jake. I just needed to rest,” I tried to reach out to him, my voice weak but firm. He scoffed, “You don’t understand, do you? You go sleep while I stay and deal with the embarrassment!”

I reached my breaking point and I was SO TIRED! Exhausted and feeling unsupported, I decided to pack up some things and go to my mom’s for a while. As I was packing, the doorbell rang and of course, I was the one who made the effort to answer it.

I went to open the door and, to my surprise, I saw that it was my in-laws. They looked serious and they were accompanied by a woman I didn’t recognize. “We need to talk,” my mother-in-law said as she entered.

She introduced my husband and me to this woman as a professional nanny they had hired for the next two weeks. “She’s here to help you with the baby and to teach Jake how to take care of him and run the house,” my mother-in-law explained.