Except I can’t. The problem is technical: hands. The baby must be held. In the sling he falls asleep and I eat and try to sleep make food for my older boys and aim for 15 minutes of attention to each one a day (can’t say that I make my goal very often). So the problem is also logistical: time. Somehow there is more of it now that day and night have blurred into one another and also no time at all. At least, no time with hands.

I nurse in the nursing chair, rocking back and forth, turning over words that disappear before I’ve burped him and even tried to put him down. And he does NOT like to be put down.

I want to describe how he smells. I want to describe how this mostly cranky alien, so new to the world, and, frankly, so dyspeptic and fusspotty in his temperament has stolen my heart. Rationally I am unmoved by his cries and grunts and moans and there I am again moving to move him—swing him, rock him, tuck him in close to my body and when all else fails I strip us down and get in the bath where he stares at me wide-eyed and completely calm. But he has already woken up. Even the sling doesn’t work for more than 15 minutes if I am not moving.

He is three weeks old today. I’d love to tell you what it’s like here but—(fade out with the sound of screaming in the background...)