No sleep til...

Longtime readers of this blog might remember me writing that it's not surprising to me that sleep deprivation is frequently used as a torture technique. I believe I wrote that during the early days and nights of William's life, nearly four years ago. At the time, I think I was desperate for some sleep and nearly delirious from a lack of it.

Well, guess what, folks? It's still true! We had a rough night last night. So far, it's been a pattern of one decent night, one bad night, one okay night, one awful night. Given that Andrew won't even be two weeks old until tomorrow, I think I can understand that it would be silly to expect anything better than what we're experiencing. And that's far more perspective than I had when William was the same age. But it still doesn't make it any easier, physically speaking, to cope with a night of nearly constant wakeups, especially when I have to wincingly haul myself out of bed without aggravating the pain in my right side. Poor David had to go to work today, and I sincerely hope that he had access to some strong coffee to help him make it through the day because I don't think we even logged two cumulative hours of sleep last night.

When Jaclyn called to schedule a lunch and playdate with us today, I gratefully accepted. And I realized that we haven't taken any photos of me with Andrew since I was in the hospital, so I asked her to take a few for me. I had to put on a LOT of makeup to counter the effect of last night's marathon. Andrew, of course, looks exactly the same.






































We still adore him, of course. :)