Keeping up with writing once a week hasn't been much of a sacrifice. I'm up most days at 6:30, so pecking out my thoughts with one hand and lovingly cradling one of these beautiful babes with the other isn't too terrible a chore. Hopefully I'm recording all the breaking news and not just wailing about the losses; things like the melon-sized hairball I collected (for posterity) to see just how much has fallen out. Or the flaming red itch in my armpits since I started breastfeeding. A month of nursing without a breast shield has predictably left my nipples in crisis, despite my efforts, especially in cold weather. To ease my sorrows, Noble is now full-on laughing, stirred up by thigh biting, rib tickling and simple pranks.
It's been ages since I was a single person. 23 weeks ago I was tottering around the yard without a care in the world, except urging my baby to get on with it, but I was totally untethered (except to the toilet) and blissfully unaware of the state of anyone else's undergarments. Now my days start with spikes in adrenaline as my radar picks up the early morning distress calls of starvation and a full diaper.
It's been over a month since Noble started going down at 7, and I've grown accustomed to going out with friends after sunset, enjoying cocktails, and doing full cycles of laundry with impunity. Bill and I stay in most nights, making dinner and catching up on tv until my 9pm nap, if I can make it that long. Tonight I'm going out alone to pick up some over-night diapers. For a friend.
Now that Noble has proven herself an inquisitive and proprietary grabber nothing within arm's reach is safe, and wearing earrings has become a thrilling risk. Watching her reach for things, grab her leg, pet her hair and sigh contentedly is as enthralling as it is gratifying. Listening to her noises is amazing. Sensational. Profound. To know she is modeling herself after our successes and failures day to day is a sobering reminder to live our best lives. Not just play on our phones all day. 
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