This morning he has an appointment with his pediatrician. All of them just left, leaving me alone in this suddenly quiet house with Jackson, who by the way, has been super chill with his new baby brother. He gives him the occasional sniff and sometimes seems disturbed whenever Silas is placed on the floor since Jackson thinks that the floor is his exclusive domain. Example:
But other than that Jackson is adjusting well.
I got to give Silas his bottle this morning and then watch him sleep and stretch for thirty minutes or so. Each time I do this I am mesmerized, all of his delicate features so perfect but as vulnerable as a feather in the wind. This tiny creature is totally dependent on us, utterly helpless and hopeless without people who love him. Sometimes when I watch him sleeping my heart will suddenly break over the thought of babies born and thrown in dumpsters, babies who die from neglect, babies nobody ever knew. I have no idea why these types of thoughts find their way into my consciousness at times of such great joy. It’s how I’m wired, I guess. Whenever I am overwhelmed with the greatest of blessings is the time when my heart reminds me of those in despair. It’s maddening, but thankfully brief.
On a lighter note. My daughter got me a wonderful Father’s Day present yesterday—a book especially for me to read to Silas…
Before all of you ladies out there start with the eye-rolling, I would like to point out that this book is a New York Times #1 bestseller, proving what I have always said that nothing is funnier than well-timed flatulence. So, since it’s never too soon to introduce the boy to classic humor, last night I read it to him. He was clearly transfixed and captivated by my delivery…
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