It occured to me that the first few weeks with a newborn might feel like the worlds craziest sleepover. So far, into the night of (what I think is) the third day, I believe I was right. 

Those nights when you’re with your best friend, you stay up late drinking or playing video games or walking or talking or drawing and you go to bed late and you talk later than that and it’s unclear who falls asleep first and you wake up when the sun’s still got a blue light to it over in the east. The sort of night when the next day you’re not sure if what you’re talking about happened earlier or yesterday.

That sort of quality has given a water color feel to the days lately. Was it today or yesterday or possibly even a dream that I’m thinking of? Who knows, not me, certainly not Abby. 

I at least can run errands. I went to the dump, I glued up some cherry for my office. I walk the dogs. I do all of it in a somewhat confused and euphoric fog, but I do it. Abby hasn’t been downstairs in a few days. I get to re-enter and re-realize this unfathomable joy of this person and I think part of that is the few steps of distance I can get from it.

Abby is in it at all times. Further, she’s healing from one of the most immense and difficult things a human can do. She is enduring a chemical and hormonal shift greater than anything else a human can even experience. To say that I’m impressed would be an understatement severe enough to be outright wrong. 

Bozo