Well, two weeks ago, you arrived in a fit of crying and me lying around partially drugged.
Not much has changed.
While your entrance to this world has been easier than your sister’s, the aftermath for me has been, to say the least, a disaster. You showed up already on a four-hour schedule with a sweet disposition and we couldn’t have been more surprised – or pleased. The only thing we’re fighting these days is that your little brain has mixed up day and night. And really? Mommy and Daddy have very little interest in playing at 3:37am. So, let’s work on that.
I am just now starting to feel like a member of the human race again – and that adventure has involved three trips to the hospital – two in the middle of the night and one to the ER – and many, many pain meds that make me feel, well, a bit disconnected. You and I haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other and that made me kinda sad.
But that started to change last night. Last night was the first night I started stepping down the pain meds. You and I spend every four hours last night doing the whole feed – burp — poop – change – rock – cuddle – sleep routine. And while burping last night you lifted your little head straight up, looked me straight in the eye, opened your mouth and planted the wettest, messiest “kiss” on the side of my face. And then proceeded to rest your tired little head on my cheek. Every time you had to burp.
And so, the haze is lifting. And that’s where we’ll begin, you and I.