Wednesday, April 20, 2011
dying of cute.
She is sick. She's congested and uncomfortable. And like all of my babies, the only place that offers her a tiny bit of relief is resting her head on my shoulder. In some ways, the third baby is easier-if I miss a night of sleep, I know how to cope. I've done this. Only this time there is a new fuzzy head to sniff in the middle of the night. Other times, the third baby feels impossibly hard. Like when Mister comes rolling in at 6:30 this morning to announce that he pooped. Sometimes I'd like to send a message to myself from five years ago and say, "enjoy daytime sleep, enjoy before questions, enjoy breastfed baby poo." But she wouldn't believe me. And it's ok. Just as each baby brings her own joy, each one feels impossibly hard. The nice part about this time around is that I know what it feels like to be on the other side of having a newborn.