There is plenty that is hard... days and days of a few hours sleep, teaching your baby and your body to connect, not worrying yourself to death about every little thing, but then again...
She has this sweet face and these big eyes. She squeaks in her sleep while she tries to wrestle loose from her swaddling. She is extraordinarily alert and happy after she poops. She loves to sleep on her daddy's chest. While sleeping on you, she reaches out to lay a hand on your face.
But the unexpected thing is that she knows me. She knows my voice and follows it with her head as I talk to her across the room. I can comfort her with a simple coo. (Not always, of course.)
Other things I love:
- the way her hair swirls in black curls around the back of her head - her dad jokes we have to comb it in a perfect spiral.
- the way her face expresses pure emotion - rapidly changing as thing erupt and then resolve in quick succession.
- the softness of her skin, like velvet.
- the sweet smell of her.
- the odd combination of a long and lean physique that is contradicted by the sheer doubleness of her chin.
She is one week old today. I want to remember her - not just the struggles, the worry and the pain, but the joy, the love, and the excitement of my sweet, sweet baby.