2 nights ago, the longest night of my life. I held you in my arms for 11 hours in an ER. I then held you for another 2 or 3 in a storage room, as we waited for a room on the pediatric floor. Sleep didn't happen for me but I was happy when you would nod off.
Right beside us, the whole time, was your father. Correction, your father left once, to bring your grandmother home. He then came right back. He didn't sleep either.
Stay strong, ladybird.
Today, I noticed you trying to touch the dust motes in the sunbeams in our bedroom. I thought that you were hallucinating as you have a fever, but your dad figured it out. Ironically, he's usually Mr Worst Case Scenario and I am Mary Poppins.
In respect your care, I am easy to worry, and quick to come to conclusions. Perhaps because I medical, I know too much of what is possible. Part of it is certainly connected to depression, postpartum to be specific, as I just sometimes feel everything is insurmountable.
As a special treat, we are sitting together as a family watching Tintin. We really have not been exposing you to TV, but we feel that you earned a little zoning out. Perhaps we do as well.
This is the dawning of the night that you first slept through. 10 pm, you succumbed to sleep, after fighting it as long as you could.
At one point, your father and I serenaded you with Bohemian_Rhapsody. We did a pretty fabulous job of it.
We owed it to you, after pops decided it was worth it to break our "no screen time" rule by showing you footage of Manhattan cable access talent shows from the 80s. No link necessary to the carnage of the developing psyche.
Thank you for helping me feel slightly closer to human.
You are currently looking at sweet little butt, because she just rolled over for the first time. I'm so glad I was here to see it!
Last night, she was playing hi 5 with her dad, which is pretty cool for a 4 month old.
Addendum: another first from yesterday - the raspberry. She's a critic after my own heart.
