Today Carl is six weeks old.
That means it has been six weeks since I had a good night of sleep.
Scott says that, among other things, our body uses sleep to organize and store our long term memories. Research has demonstrated that poor sleep results in poor memory storage. In other words, we can't remember well what happens on the days we are tired.
No wonder I remember so little about the first three months of Soren's life.
With this in mind, it seems much more urgent that I record some of the things I can remember about Carl's infancy. I wouldn't want to forget my sweet newborn and his ever-so-gradual development.
I remember the first day home from the hospital. Our home felt as much like heaven that day as it ever has. Carl was sweet and easy to care for. Soren was elated to spend time with his father. When all four of us where in the same room, I thought my heart would burst for joy. I can't describe the way I felt and so I'm glad I slept well the night before and hope to always remember it.
The first few weeks Carl didn't do much more than sleep and eat. I remember thinking how nice it was that he would fall asleep in my arms. I remember thinking that his infrequent crying was never annoying and that he was easy to sooth.
He must have been three weeks old when I first cracked in the middle of the night. I was tired and he was hungry and I thought I would never be well rested (or sane) again.
I remember how swaddling would always calm him right down but he didn't get the hang of the sling until the end of the first month.
He started holding up his head for more than a moment and accidentally rolled over a couple of times around five weeks. His Granda Duede was witness to that particular feet.
He's a sensitive little guy; all the company last weekend made him restless and cranky. As soon as everyone left, he went right back to being his old, sweet self.
This past week he has started smiling with greater frequency and deliberateness. Sometimes it is a sweet grin but often it looks a lot more like a sneer, which makes Scott and I laugh.
We look forward to more changes in the coming weeks and I'm going to try and record more of them so I can remember more.
That means it has been six weeks since I had a good night of sleep.
Scott says that, among other things, our body uses sleep to organize and store our long term memories. Research has demonstrated that poor sleep results in poor memory storage. In other words, we can't remember well what happens on the days we are tired.
No wonder I remember so little about the first three months of Soren's life.
With this in mind, it seems much more urgent that I record some of the things I can remember about Carl's infancy. I wouldn't want to forget my sweet newborn and his ever-so-gradual development.
I remember the first day home from the hospital. Our home felt as much like heaven that day as it ever has. Carl was sweet and easy to care for. Soren was elated to spend time with his father. When all four of us where in the same room, I thought my heart would burst for joy. I can't describe the way I felt and so I'm glad I slept well the night before and hope to always remember it.
The first few weeks Carl didn't do much more than sleep and eat. I remember thinking how nice it was that he would fall asleep in my arms. I remember thinking that his infrequent crying was never annoying and that he was easy to sooth.
He must have been three weeks old when I first cracked in the middle of the night. I was tired and he was hungry and I thought I would never be well rested (or sane) again.
I remember how swaddling would always calm him right down but he didn't get the hang of the sling until the end of the first month.
He started holding up his head for more than a moment and accidentally rolled over a couple of times around five weeks. His Granda Duede was witness to that particular feet.
He's a sensitive little guy; all the company last weekend made him restless and cranky. As soon as everyone left, he went right back to being his old, sweet self.
This past week he has started smiling with greater frequency and deliberateness. Sometimes it is a sweet grin but often it looks a lot more like a sneer, which makes Scott and I laugh.
We look forward to more changes in the coming weeks and I'm going to try and record more of them so I can remember more.
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