It's tough to get no sleep and function and keep a positive attitude in the most intense few weeks of my life. And to then say that I sometimes don't have a positive attitude. And to then say that I then feel guilty when I don't.
It's challenging to keep a 7 week old awake and happy doing one activity for any stretch of time. Case in point...
It's not easy thinking of games to play with your hands and feet. Patty cake, the itsy bitsy spider, deep and wide, I'm a little tea pot, the chicken dance, this little piggy, the hokey pokey, head and shoulders knees and toes (knees and toes)... these all play a part in our daily routine.
It's demanding... this unscheduled schedule.
It's physically painful to worry that he could just not wake up.
It's impossible to put this experience into words.
It's immense. That this life is in my hands. But it's not.
It's hard to not laugh when he sticks out his lower lip and pouts. It's also hard to not cry tears of happiness when I focus on the fact that he's mine.
It's tough to leave him for any amount of time without at least wondering what he's doing. And missing him.
It's challenging to keep a bottle in with your chin while texting pictures to your mother.
It's not easy to pass up a chance to kiss him on his tiny mouth. Or his button nose. Or his belly. Or his chubby cheeks. So I don't.
It's demanding... this boogery nose.
It's physically painful to hold in a sneeze while rocking him to sleep.
It's impossible to explain the joy I feel while staring at his expressive sleeping face.
It's immense. This love.
This is hard.