Evening from hell - just venting

I already spent two hours trying to get baby to sleep early in the evening. She fell asleep pretty nicely while nursing but remained latched on - didn't nurse, but anytime I popped her off, no matter how gently, she cried and woke up!

After two hours of this she slid off of my boob and I escaped to the kitchen for dinner. I missed my afternoon small meal because baby was fussy but I had felt like I could put her down to sleep but I couldn't in the end... and it was past dinner time already. I needed food.

Daddy got guard duty. When I came back he casually informed me that baby woke up by what had appeared to be gasses and she had been also smacking her lips so my boobs would be demanded again... Cool. So fucking nice.

Some nursing, good latch, big gulps of milk being swallowed. Then another hour of the same dry nursing, latched on but not sucking. I sneak her into her crib.

My nipples are both hurting. I haven't felt like this since the first week, when both my nipples were cracked and baby's latch wasn't quite deep enough yet.

After ten minutes she is up again, crying.

My nipples need a break. I'm rocking her, singing, swaddling, trying all the different positions of folding her, bringing in the pacifiers she had never took to.

Nothing helps.

She's screaming for half hour straight. It's half past eleven, everything's quiet but the baby. Daddy is in the next room playing video games because this is pretty much the only time when he can take a break.

When do I take a break?

Headphones on, he doesn't hear a thing.

I feel so much alone.

Weather forecast said tomorrow would be significantly cooler than today so I guess I know why baby's cranky, but that's not something I can help with at all!

Baby's screaming. My nipples hurt. The only thing that helps her is if she can keep my boob in her mouth, squeezing hard because my letdown is easily triggered and she doesn't want the milk now. I'm not doing that again after three full hours of it in the past six.

Baby's screaming and I can't help her. I'm doing all I can and it's nothing.

All of what I'm doing is nothing in the end, baby's screaming with what is clearly a broken heart.

Baby's still screaming, and where is daddy?

Daddy is taking a break. He needs a break sometimes.

He gets a break, he gets to tell himself that it's OK, mom is there, everything is being handled because the other parent is already handling it.

I don't ever get a break. It's my boobs, after all, which are the answer-all.

I need help, even if it's just a hand on my shoulder.

I ask daddy to help.

He shows up a minute after baby cries herself to sleep. He stands there, awkwardly, feeling bad that he couldn't help and he doesn't understand what I needed from him.

Then he goes back out to the other room, letting some steam out.

I'm alone.

Baby whimpers in her sleep and I can't help her.