Two weeks. Isaac has been here for two weeks, and the lack of sleep is really starting to wear. Yes, he’s adorable. Yes, he’s soft and smells like new baby and is warm and wonderful when he’s sleeping on your chest, but in general, I’m ready to move on to the next developmental stage where there’s some sort of social interaction payoff for all the diaper changes and the rocking and the comforting. It’s hard to comfort a baby when the baby doesn’t really see people as separate entities from themselves, and when they can’t express even the most fundamental joy. Really, at this point, all you get is ‘pissed off’ or ‘not pissed off’, with ‘content’ being the closest thing to happiness you can aspire to. Sometimes, in his sleep, Isaac will smile, and it’s like a future echo of what a month from now is gonna look like. It’s purely autonomic and is part of the brain wiring itself up during sleep, but to an external viewer, it’s like magic. I hate sounding impatient, and in general I’m totally enjoying this baby experience thing, but… man. I’m tired. And I have no right to complain, it’s not my breasts that have been hijacked every hour to two hours, 24/7.
Really, Isaac — the best thing you can do for all of us is a) start sleeping for longer periods, b) allow me to give you a bottle (very soon, comrades!), c) start smiling at your poor tired-out parents. If you can do those three things, we’re in business. Stay a baby as long as you like, as long as we get some endorphine kickbacks in the form of baby bliss