T
he first two nights with John in the house, out-of-the-womb, were like fever trips. We struggled for a minute with his feeding schedule, and he was basically not getting milk when we thought he was. This meant he was putting up a real scream at all hours of the night, and we just could not figure out what he needed. The line between sleeping and waking, silence and pandemonium, was shattered, and both Elena and I oozed in and out of half-consciousness over and over. Dreams would begin the second my head hit the pillow, and fog out into reality twenty minutes later when I had to get up to comfort my wailing son.
It is remarkable how many things fit into a day in this season. It feels like weeks have passed since John was born, but in reality, it's only been four days. We just learned his rhythm, and new methods of feeding him, today -- but I'd already swear we've been doing them forever. The days are endless vistas, and make everything look small.