maybe it's time to change the header

I can tell this is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. Duh, right? The many hours I spent wondering how it would be when Sasha got here did nothing to prepare me. The fucked up thing is that I know it's only going to get harder. Don't get me wrong, she makes my heart weep and bleed and sing and swoon. She's only two weeks old, which boggles my mind. I feel like we've had her for months.

I haven't slept in my bed in what seems like months. Sasha and I live in the living room. We do this because Micah actually has to get up and expend a huge amount of energy every day. He's breadwinning, after all. The baby isn't terribly fussy; whatever is getting her Pampers in a twist is usually on this list: hungry, wet, cold, or on the verge of sleep so just hold me close and bounce me, mama. But she does cry, so I try to keep the bothering to a minimum. Though I must admit the other night Micah woke around 2am to find me and the baby sobbing in the kitchen. He wisked her away and calmed the storm. I'm doing okay, but the lack of sleep thing is definitely getting to me. Breastfeeding is glorious for many reasons, but I just can't help but feel a little bitter that I'm the only one who can feed her. So I've started pumping milk. I bought a used breastpump awhile ago, kind of knowing that I might like some time to myself and a pump could provide that for me. I have never said I'm not a selfish person. I am. That's what scares me most about being a parent now.

I just want to sleep for eight hours in my bed. Is that too much to ask? The physical space between Micah and myself is starting to spread it's ugly tentacles. I have some thoughts that go like this: good lord, you have NO IDEA how hard this is, DUDE. It's hard not to be a little bitter. It's hard to be the primary provider. It's just hard, I guess.

I think the learning curve for men is a little different. Because they tend to not be the primary love-giver, it takes longer to figure out where they fit into the big picture. I try not to stand over his shoulder when he changes diapies (oh yeah, that's what we call 'em, shoot me now) and I try not to wisk her away when he's trying to sooth her and it ain't working. I want him to figure it out. He absolutely adores her, but he hasn't had to commit to her like I have. It's okay, though. It's a job. It just happens to be a 24-hour job, which is the root of the problem. I just don't get a break. The breast pump has given me new hope. I'm starting a collection of milk in the fridge because Micah volunteered to take care of her all day one day this weekend so I can sleep. Now let's just hope I can actually sleep. See, my body still thinks sleeping is for night. No matter how tired I am, I cannot sleep at 10am when Sasha slips into a nice three hour nap. Yesterday I even turned off the tv, locked the dog outside, and took the largest recommended dose of Percocet. Sasha was secure in her bouncy chair. Check, check, check. Then I laid there for two hours unable to sleep. If that's not infuriating.

Fuck, you guys. I'm only sixteen days into this. It's messed up to think that I can't fuck up or quit or take her back. Nothing could have prepared me.

And now I'll stop being so fucking negative and tell you about my amazing daughter.

She's gorgeous. I could stare at her for hours. Her eyelashes are decidedly lighter than the hair on her head, which makes me think she could be on the blonder side one day. Her eyes have lightened a bit from the steely blue-gray they were at birth. It will be interesting to see if she gets the orange ring around her pupils, as Micah and I both have those.

She makes unstinky poop. Cannot get over this.

She makes the most adorable noises. Sometimes she sounds like a grumpy old man, other times like a baby dolphin. When she's about to hone in on my nipple she chortles like a little chipmunk. Do chipmunks chortle? I bet they do.

Sometimes I catch her smiling even though I'm pretty sure she has no idea she's smiling. I think babies must be born with every facial expression available, they just have to learn when to use them. But seeing her smile is the sweetest thing ever, and mostly because it's a glimpse into how it will be in a few months, when we tickle her and she actually engages and acknowledges us. Arguably the most adorable thing I can imagine. I can't wait to hear her laugh.

Her face has filled out and her head is definitely bigger. Everything is probably bigger, I just don't notice much other than her head because that's what I stare at.

She's perfect. I know that's an unoriginal thought for a new mom to have, but if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that every cheesy parenting cliche is unavoidably true. She's perfect.