Nothing Sweeter

Yesterday, after a long, stressful 10 hours of work, Jamie stumbled home tired and deflated. He came through the front door with his usual greeting to the dogs and made his way into the kitchen where I was managing to put together salads while balancing Lucy in one arm. "How was work?" I asked, knowing full well what his answer would be. "Busy..." he responded, hardly audible. Suddenly, I felt a stab of guilt. Though being at home with Lucy can be tiring and even trying during times of extreme fussiness, spending hours cuddling my sweet little pumpkin is priceless. I thought of the contrast between my day and Jamie's day. While I nibble on little baby toes and lose myself in our daughter's slate blue-gray eyes, Jamie spends his time solving network problems. And while I'm confident in my connection with our baby, in the past few weeks as he's come home from work later and later, I know he has questioned whether or not Lucy even knows he's her dad. But all of that changed in one indescribably beautiful moment last night. When he bent down to kiss her head, he said "Hey little girl, daddy missed you so much today." But instead of looking past him, Lucy looked him in the eyes and smiled. Not the little half smile of newborns--this smile lit up her entire face as she stared into her dad's eyes. And she continued to smile as her dad scooped her up into his arms, saying, "You really do know I'm your daddy. That makes my day." Suddenly, all of the stress melted away and for the first time in the weeks since Lucy came, Jamie could soak up every ounce of the joy of being a dad.

Giving Into the Dreaded "P" Word

As an inherently guilt-ridden person, I should have known that parenthood would bring about a whole new meaning to the word. Yesterday, after three days of watching Lucy attempt to force her little balled up fist into her mouth, listening as she made loud sucking sounds, and cringing in pain as my little "barracuda nurser" spent hours upon hours comfort nursing, I finally gave in to the dreaded "P" word. After what seemed to be a particularly dramatic crying spell, Jamie had taken our little raven-haired beauty upstairs in an attempt to soothe her. When the house became strangely quiet, I made my way upstairs to the bedroom only to find my husband lying on his back with Lucy vigorously sucking on his pinkie. In a moment mixed with desperation, frustration, a bit of disgust mixed with horror, and overwhelming guilt, I tore open the various packages of silicon goodness and popped the first of these objects into her mouth. Suddenly there was blessed silence--immediately followed by gagging, crying, and more gagging. For a moment, the guilt was crushing. As I reached down to cradle my little soprano whose voice is often at its finest at 4 am, I decided to give it another try. I reached for the next selection, this one sporting a fashionable turquoise trim and gingerly tickled her lips. To my absolute, albeit guilty, delight, the silence was golden. The three of us lay in bed for the next hour, Jamie watching old episodes of Heroes on his laptop, Lucy laying in between us contently watching her daddy, and me watching as my little one happily sucked on her Pacifier. At long last, I had given in.