Sometimes when Annie cries, I just need a bit of a break. I need to cook dinner, or do some washing, tidy up, have a shower, or just have five minutes to be me again – to recharge my batteries so I can go back to holding, playing, feeding, comforting.

I wish Tom made that a little easier for me.

I know that he loves spending time with Annie. I know he wants it more, but I wish he would do it differently from how he does.

When I need just five minutes to be me again, he snatches her from me, and rather than playing with her or taking her for a walk, reading to her, singing with her – anything really – instead of any of that, he puts her in the sling, puts on his record decks and stays out there with her screaming the entire time. He won’t stop until she falls asleep, whether she needs or wants one, or not.

My five minutes to recharge becomes five minutes or forty-five minutes of stress as I listen to Annie screaming.

No matter what I say to Tom, he won’t let me have her back, insisting that he will see to her and that she will go to sleep whether she likes it or not.

My need to hold her and protect her is profound.

He’s her Dad. I shouldn’t feel this way.

I’m tired, and I need a break, but it’s becoming more stressful to have one than not.

Why must he say such things as, “We’ll put her up for adoption then, shall we? Is that what you want?” anytime I say I am tired, exhausted, or ready to drop from feeding her day and night while he sleeps on soundly.

Why must he – whenever anyone’s around to see – put on a smile, pull a funny face and make it look as though everything in life is great, because it’s bloody not. Right now, it’s pretty bloody shit, and he’s not doing anything to help that. In fact, most of the time, he’s causing it with his nasty comments and refusal to really support me.