I lie awake at 3 a.m. as I hear the screaming and crying of the robotic baby next to me. I slowly get up, exhausted, and place my arm over its chest so my bracelet will align with the sensor. 

I brought the baby home on Friday, April 1, not thinking much of it. I thought the weekend would fly by. Little did I know that the next 64 hours would be the longest and most stressful time of my life. 

I walked into the classroom free, and walked out with a wristband that is impossible to take off and the weight of a car seat, diaper bag and baby.  

The baby turned on at 4 p.m. while I was still waiting for my mom to pick me up. I could feel all eyes on me, and my face flushed with embarrassment. 

When my mom finally came, I faced my first task as a “mother”: putting my child in the car seat. I didn’t think it would be as difficult as it actually was, given the fact I came to school early that morning to get a mini-lesson from my teacher Mrs. Oldham on how to correctly secure the car seat. I spent five minutes attempting to wrap the seatbelt around the seat until I somewhat got it secured. 

Thankfully the baby didn’t cry while we were driving home, but as soon as we arrived home, it started screaming. I tried to chime the baby with my bracelet, but for some reason it wasn’t working. The screaming just got louder and louder until it finally stopped three minutes later. That’s when I realized it was going to be a long weekend. 

The baby started crying again five minutes later. Luckily, I didn’t have any problems with the bracelet, and I was able to quickly attend to it. 

The cycle continued on for a while. I would attend to the baby, feed it or change its diaper, and it would finally calm down. Five minutes later it would start crying again.

After a few cycles of the constant crying, feeding, changing, burping and rocking, the baby would finally go to sleep for an hour or two. I never appreciated silence so much until those  moments. 

The first day came to an end, and it was finally time to sleep. Or so I thought. The baby kept waking up to be fed and changed. The next two days were the same as the first. Maybe a little easier because it cried slightly less, but it was still chaotic.

It was finally Monday morning, and excitement filled my bones. I was finally getting rid of it. I was already running late for school, and as I was walking out the door with the car seat in my arms, the baby started crying again. Pure chaos filled the garage as I took the baby out of its car seat, laid it on the floor and changed its diaper as my dad started the car. 

I eventually got everything in order and put the baby back into its seat and once again attempted to secure the car seat in the car. 

I reached school and made my way to Mrs. Oldham’s classroom. I could once again feel eyes on me as I walked through the halls, but all I could think about was turning in the baby. I got to  the classroom and saw all the other students turning in their babies. They had a rough weekend too. I went through all the procedures of turning the baby in, and the moment I was waiting for finally came. 

Mrs. Oldham grabs a pair of scissors and cuts the bracelet off. I was finally free from the baby-related mental breakdowns and responsibilities. 

Though this experience was stressful, I learned what it’s like to take care of a baby and have developed a deeper appreciation for all mothers.