Nicholas was due to be born today.
That would have been a really cool birthday, but I sure am glad we're three weeks and one day into all this rather than starting fresh today.
Things are going well.
Despite the seemingly constant eating. Mine and his. I'm starving. He's starving.
Despite the touch of thrush. Mine and his.
Despite the bit of colick. Again. Both of us.
Despite the sleepless nights.
They say second babies are easier. It's easier knowing that colic and thrush and constant feedings and the Not Sleeping Ever don't last forever. It's easier knowing that you've done a pretty good job keeping the first one alive and well so this one will most likely follow suit.
I like that phrase "follow suit". It reminds me of playing Crazy Eights. Lots of life stuff is like playing Crazy Eights. We follow suit until someone throws us a curve ball. Then we use what resources we've got to continue playing along and if we don't hold in our hands the thing we need to keep up, we fish around in the bone pile until we find something we can use.
My bone pile is nice and full this time around, and I've got a pretty good hand to boot.
Speaking of boots:
Could you die? Seriously.