I spent the better part of yesterday thinking about a pillow. More accurately, how my face felt against that soft pillow in the morning before I was awoken by shrieks. No, a shriek.
During the feeding session that followed, all I could think about was how good it would feel when I got back to that pillow.
Many other demands followed that feeding and by 10:00 p.m., when I got close to the pillow again, I chose a firmer one.
I knew sleep would be a challenge with a newborn. And it is.
It’s been two months now, and we’ve had two successive five-hour nights, so let’s hope that trend continues.
The boy came two days after his due date and a day after the doctor declared that he was nowhere near to coming out. We scheduled an induction for the following week. But by that same night, he started to make his way. To cut a long story short, I got to the hospital 11:45 a.m. the following day and he was born at 12:01 p.m.
Here’s something I jotted down while just staring at him soon after he was born :
Nostrils like little butterfly wings. No, moth wings. Little ones. Opening and closing impatiently. No, they seem to reach their limit quickly because of their small size. Flapping, no, quickening in the breeze of his new breath.