The Happy New Mommy & A Milk Coma

Who knew that one could be so tired, and yet so happy? I guess anyone who's had a child [duh!], but it's not the kind of thing you realize until it's you--no matter how empathetic you might be. So far my main point of reference has been the exhaustion I felt during the first year of graduate school, which is actually not all that different from this exhaustion, except that this one comes with some significantly more joyful elements, and while books are often beautiful things, they don't breathe and move on their own.
Tate's bilirubin count continues to drop slowly, but it is going in the right direction, so that's the only thing that matters at this point, really. We continue to be astounded by the realities of our new little man, even in his hourly wakings in the last few nights that are accompanied by 100-decibel cries. I never guessed something so loud could come from something so small. It's really quite amazing. And what a remarkable survival strategy! Cry so loud that you could break windows, and virtually no one can ignore your needs...
I need also to say just how wonderful my wife is. The first few days home with Tate we both looked a little bit shell-shocked, I think, confounded by the utter reality of our new responsibilities, but I've watched Monica over the last 12 days, learning how to care for Tate, observing his behaviors, examining all his little parts, washing his soft brown hair, learning to be his mommy. What a joy that is.