The day I was born was…well, it was traumatic. First I was all warm and cozy, then –
WHY ARE YOU POKING ME?!
I started to panic, which is apparently cause for concern because my handlers were all, “Her breathing is elevated! We need to slow it down!”
Then they laid me on mom-lady’s chest and I was all, “HAPPY PLACE! HAPPY PLACE!”
So the handlers told mom-lady that she needed to hold me tight on her chest as much as possible for the first few weeks to make sure my breathing stays regulated.
Because apparently it’s wrong to give newborns Xanax.
Mom-lady keeps forgetting their strict instructions, though, and she tries to lay me down. Despite the fact that I am clearly in a deep and peaceful sleep in her arms, she seems to think that laying me down is appropriate because she has “things to do.”
Are those things more important than making sure I don’t have a panic attack?!
Joke’s on her, though, because every time she lays me down, I just cry and she picks me back up. Just between you and me, the bed she’s laying me in is rather cozy. I kind of like it, actually. But she doesn’t need to know that, because I like sleeping on her chest better.
I’m winning this fight.
Join me as I take The Nester’s 31 Day challenge and chronicle the newborn haze of sleepless nights, endless nursing, and squeezing in life in twenty minute increments throughout the day. If you want to receive the posts directly in your email inbox, just leave your email address in the box on the sidebar, and subscribe so you don’t miss a post!
I’ll share photos every day, some of them good, and some of them mediocre, because baby leaves me little time to worry about taking and editing the perfect photos.
I’ll also be sharing my daughter’s thoughts, as dictated to me telepathically while she nurses, because she has informed me that she is a mind ninja, and I am merely her portal to the outside world.
Her words, not mine.
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