A quick paraphrase of every unsolicited conversation I had while I was pregnant would go something like this:
Them: "Is this your first kid?"
Them: "Congratulations! It's basically a series of terrible things. It's the best feeling ever! Good luck."
They may have had a point. A week ago, if you asked me what the hardest part of being a parent is, I would have told you that it was getting the baby to sleep. But of course that's not true, because sleep hasn't been a problem this week. This week has been pretty awesome. Don't worry, though, there will be a whole new problem next week. And next week's problem won't be the hardest part of being a parent either.
Because really, the hardest part about being a parent is how vulnerable you become. One day a little alien-looking thing pops out and BAM, your life is no longer your own. Everything you do suddenly revolves around this half-person, who is so totally helpless and you love him so much that you're helpless too. And the weirdest part is that you spend a good chunk of this lovefest consumed with rage. How can this be?
I've said the same basic thing before. But I bought a baby milestone book and it doesn't have room to write things like this, so I have to dump these thoughts into cyberspace. It's a roundabout way of recording the milestone of Jasper learning to sleep, and how every new thing he does is accompanied by a new wave of vulnerability. It's too much to hold in, and I'm told it never ends.