Every Day is a New Day

We have a child who is four days old, and all is right in our world. It's a wonder to have in my life someone who's so small and so dependent on me. Who can make me feel elated just by sleeping in my arms or by looking at me, and can make me feel crushed when she cries. A friend asked me whether it feels real yet, and I admitted that it still doesn't. As he chased after his two daughters I asked when it will, and he said it'll happen gradually.

I suppose the unreality of being a parent is exacerbated by time having become messed up -- clocks have no meaning to an infant, which means that they have no meaning to an infant's parents. The fact that I'll be off work for another two weeks will keep me out of time. We're both tired but in good spirits. Kathy is getting less sore and more mobile each day. The joke is that she's looked one month less pregnant with each passing day, but we're skeptical that she can keep that pace over the next five days. Currently my folks are with us, and they've been a big help during their stay. Dad's many years as a pediatrician are being put to good use in answering the dozens of questions we're barraging him with. The weather here has been great, so that many of the visitors who have popped in have been greeted while we've been sitting on our steps outside.