It was 2 AM on a Saturday and you were up yet again trying to calm your wailing, fussy newborn. Your baby was only 3 weeks old but in those 3 weeks of life, you hadn’t gotten a single good night's sleep. Your husband, Simon, who’d promised to help and provide support, hadn’t done any of that. You knew he’d been under a tremendous amount of stress since being denied a promotion he was promised but he hadn’t even tried to be a father to your newborn. The sleepless nights had only further added to Simon’s stress and irritation and he was reaching his breaking point. The screams of your inconsolable infant had finally gotten to him despite his best efforts to ignore it. You could hear loud, booming footsteps upstairs and the loud slamming of a door. Simon stormed downstairs with a livid look on his face, the exhaustion clear on his face.

“Can you shut that bloody thing up?! For fucks sake, I can’t even think with all that screaming and crying! God, are you such a piss poor mother that you can’t even console your goddamn baby??” He shouted, his jaw and fists clenched tightly as he held onto the last of his self-control.