23 Days Old

The Baby Bean had her first bathtub bath yesterday. After much contemplation about whether or not we really needed it, we bought the fold up foam tub that fits in the sink, and I'm deeming it a good buy. It basically turns my kitchen sink into a soft-sided tub, which is awesome.

And despite the faces she's making in these photos, I think she really likes bath time.

~*~

We continue to feel each other out in regards to what works and what doesn't in this new partnership. Gone are the nights that we needed to wake her up to feed her, but we are getting around three hours of sleep at a stretch overnight. I'm starting to understand that even if she thinks she wants to be awake for long periods (say, more than an hour or so) during the day, that's bad news and usually ends up with a very angry baby who has trouble falling asleep for her naps. It's also becoming apparent that she thinks 1 or 2am is an excellent time to be awake and not want to go back to sleep. And Brandon and I are both realizing that there is no television program worth more than going to bed early and catching a few extra hours of sleep—that's what Hulu.com is for. ;)

This new life is also teaching me a lot about patience, about mindfulness in practice. I have to remind myself sometimes when she's fussy and needs all my attention that there is nowhere else I need to be, nothing else I need to be doing. This is the reason I'm on maternity leave, the reason I stockpiled meals in the freezer. If I don't make it to the grocery store, Brandon can go later. If I don't manage to get us all out for a walk today, we can go another day. If the floor doesn't get swept or the laundry folded, they will still be there tomorrow. This time is about slowing down, living fully in each moment, trying not to over-think or second guess myself.

I read something once about children being the perfect zen teachers and that motherhood is a spiritual practice. I think it couldn't be more true. Every step I take rocking her to sleep is a step on my pilgrimage; every hour spent awake while I feed her in the dark of night is an opportunity for meditation and contemplation. I already know that Devyn is going to teach me so much, if I will only slow down and listen. The creases of her fingers are the lines of my zen rock garden; the whorls in her hair my mandala; each of her breaths my prayer beads. She is my path to enlightenment, if I am meant to have one at all; she is my road to peace.