What's going on in there?

Aida laughed in her sleep twice yesterday while napping.

I know because I was there.

Rock til you drop

Aida is next to me, cooing and making all sorts of pleasant noises as she observes the world from her bouncy chair.

This would be delightful if I hadn’t spent the last two hours rocking her to sleep.

It worked. She fell asleep. Several times.

Tuesday night plans

I am going to bed as soon as I finish this.

I am not...
reading the newspaper.
watching the State of the Union speech.
calling my sister.
finishing off all my thank yous.
doing the dishes.
addressing the overdue baby announcements.
balancing my checkbook.
folding the laundry.
reading any more (today) about how to ensure my baby is getting enough sleep.
or blogging.

I will sleep. Until she calls for me.

Before I forget...

Ten weeks and three days have passed since Aida Orleans came into this world. There are things I haven't written, things I should have jotted down, memories that are already slipping into the recesses of my mind that if I don't write now will disappear forever in this cloud of sleep deprivation.

For the first couple of weeks, I took meticulous notes about her eating, pooping and sleeping habits. Obviously, I wanted to be sure she was eating enough, sleeping enough, pooping and peeing enough. I needed to know she would survive.

But here are some things I didn't write, and should have:

When she stretches after a long sleep, she raises her eyebrows, but keeps her eyes closed and moves her face in a manner that reminds me of a drunken old man.

I miss her when she sleeps

I don't remember the last push. And I had to ask my husband last night if she cried as they placed her on my chest. All I remember is the incredible relief to know she was here, that her little body was whole, her eyes open, her head searching for something recognizable.

As soon as she was born, the doctor and nurses rubbed her down and placed her on my chest, the umbilical cord still connected. She stayed there for an hour. Me hot and sweaty and exhausted, her naked and wide eyed. She rooted, finding what little I had in my breast to drink.

And then, the hour was gone.