Peering In a Tiny Window

Well, it's been more than a month since my last post. Ezri kind of "woke up" from her newborn slumber and became very active and needy. She requires constant holding and stimulation, I barely get a moment without her in my arms unless Josh is there with me. Ironically, I started a blog post a few weeks ago about how she sucks up all my time, but never finished it because a paragraph into it, she woke up and required my attention.

Since this "awakening" she's lost her ability to sleep in her bassinet. It takes her forever to fall asleep enough to put her down without waking up as soon as her back makes contact with the mattress. During the days, if I can successfully put her down, she wakes up within minutes. During the nights, I simply can't spare my own sleep it takes to assure she's deep enough under to put down. Consequently, she's been sleeping in bed with us most of the time.

I promised myself I couldn't co-sleep, but as a parent, you kind of end up doing what works. Some advice I got from a fellow parent while I was pregnant: Before kids, you can afford to be self-righteous with your ideas about parenting, judging other parents. Relish in it, because it's the last time you'll know everything. After kids, you lose that ego and find yourself doing things you never would have guessed, just because they work.

One of my favorite parts of having Ezri in bed with us is that first moment, when she's still wide awake after feeding, I crawl into bed, placing her next to me on her side. We stare at one another, face to face in the dim blue glow of the night light, and I see a person.

A real little person.

It reminds me of when I was a kid and would play with a particular doll house that my grandparents had. It felt more real to me than any other set I'd seen, and when I peered into the window at all the tiny furniture arranged just so, it felt like I was looking into a house. A real little house. It felt so magical, so wondrous, imagining the tiny people that lived in this tiny house inside of our giant house. When I look at her in those moments, I feel the same wonder.

As exhausting and time consuming as she is, it's glorious.