Pump

Lyla has fallen asleep in a lot of arms these last few days. I think this is why when we put her in the bassinet, she objects. "Excuse me, Mother? Could I be held, please, instead of sleeping in this box?"

She's exaggerating; it's not really a box. I can sort of understand her reasoning, though. I mean, which would you prefer? On the one hand you have the warm contours of someone's arms and torso. On the other hand you have a bassinet, or in her words, a box.

Trouble is, you can't tell if she's screaming because she wants out or because she's hungry. And when you're a new mother, you need the three hours between feedings to heal. What happens when it's 1:00 in the morning, you breastfed at 12:30, and your daughter is shrieking like a baboon in heat? Last night, my stance on the issue was that Lyla was not in fact hungry, but lonely. At 1:30 I asserted my position by taking her from her mother's arms, sending the now baby-less mother to bed, and carrying the baby downstairs.

For a short while, Lyla cried. Then I lay down on the couch and put her on my chest like a little bug. I slowed my breathing. Time passed, and she stopped crying. Suddenly I looked at the clock, and it was 4:00. We had fallen asleep.

Now we have the Medela Pump-In-Style breast pump, because hey, if you're gonna pump, you damn well better do it in style. Hopefully this will allow the breasts more off-the-clock time. It'll also allow Dad to horn in on this whole feeding business.

We have a smart kid, though. Not even a week old and she's discovered that sleeping, like thinking, is best done outside the box.