sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and breastfeeding are completely wonderful

“The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.”

– Jane Austen, Love & Freindship 

Clay is 16 days old today. Which means that three weeks ago Scott and I were still seeing movies, doing laundry only once a week, and waking up to phone alarms at seven, even though now I have a hard time remembering (and even less inclination to recall) what life was like before.

Because our baby smiles in his sleep (spurring the daily dinner conversation of what a two-week old dreams about). He has my nose. He exhibits his dad’s calm in seemingly chaotic situations (e.g. stroller walks with an aggressive pug, mismatching shirt and short combos, the one-handed diaper change). He displays surprisingly eclectic musical tastes, being equally mollified by Baby Einstein Bach, Waylon Jennings, my dubious lullaby lyrics, and Scott’s banjo playing. And we are hopelessly in love.

I didn’t think I would be, not so quickly at least. I spent the whole of the pregnancy mourning my impending loss of liberty, and even as I pushed I was surely the one person (between my harried husband, midwife, doula, nurse, and baby) who secretly did not want the labor to end. But upon the first glimpse of that little boy it all became worth it – a fact that only increases in truth each day. The nine months of weight gain and no white wine, the all-natural birth (infinitely better-sounding in theory), the sleepless nights, and dirty diapers, and (against all odds) breastfeeding – all of it worth it, might I even venture wonderful?

-Eleanor

Note From Scott: Let's be honest; the only thing this kid has to dream about right now is boobs.

*Image of chimp and baby taken from Vintage Printable (original source cited on photo). http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/us/legalcode