Visualize the new parents lying awake at night listening to their baby breathing, anxiously leaning over the bassinet if for a moment they can't hear it. Is the baby okay? Maybe they place their hands delicately on the tiny chest to feel it rise and fall, maybe they lower their heads to catch the gentle puff of exhalation.
This is one of those new-parent cliches that turned out to be true. Our bassinet attaches to my side of the bed, and I spent the first few days of Isaac's life sleeping with my head in the bassinet. It seemed so improbable that this elfin creature, so recently arrived from a watery world, could handle such a serious responsibility as breathing for himself on a consistent basis. I was actually relieved when he would wake up and cry.
This habit was bad for my sleep, so Craig and I soon decided to switch sides of the bed, since he had more confidence in Isaac's ability to continue existing. These days I still lie awake and listen to Isaac breathe -- but instead of obsessively focusing on just his breathing, I hear it as part of the whole. In the darkness I listen to a trio of unique breaths -- Walt, Craig, and Isaac -- each steady and dependable.
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