The House Arrest Era

This photo pretty effectively sums up the first month or so of life with a Baby Chicken.

Quiet.  Peaceful.  Lacking any sense of place or time.  Perpetually clad in pajamas.

The first several weeks after her birth were like living in a cave.  The Wife and I camped out in the living room, alternating sleeping and being on duty, which often involved inadvertently falling asleep if the Baby Chicken allowed.  Rarely did we even think to open the blinds, not that there would've been much to see, since it was the rainy season in the Bay.

Time did not exist.  On one particular occasion, and I'm not exaggerating, the Wife and I briefly argued over whether it was Friday or Monday.  Of course, it was neither.  Actually, I'm lying a bit here.  Sometimes I could tell what time of day it was by the quality of television programming.  Also, it's amazing how one's tolerance for crappy TV goes up during those first several weeks. 

Ah, but the peacefulness of holding a tiny, sleeping baby and drifting off to sleep without realizing it otherwise you'd be worried about letting her roll off the couch.  It's amazing how much worry gets mixed in with those quiet, serene moments.  Before Baby Chicken, I thought you could check to make sure your child is still breathing only so many times, but, of course, I was wrong.

Also, to all those folks that have perpetuated the feeling that breastfeeding is the only way to go and that you you shouldn't feel ashamed if it's not for you, but really you should be ashamed, so much so that you should keep making yourself miserable when you really should just be enjoying being with your baby?  I'd just like to extend a finger of gratitude to you all.  You guys are awesome.

I never expected to miss those days, but, on occasion, I do.  There is something totally comforting about holding a baby that is completely and totally dependent on you.

Nowadays, Baby C wants to be so independent that I get warm fuzzies every time she reaches for my hand when we go for walks.