I will begin by repeating the implicit claim made in the retelling of the story of my daughter's first week: this parenting thing is really hard work.
While Clara and I are getting better with the whole feeding / diaper changing / swaddling thing the effort is still very intense and while we are more consistently getting sleep at night in more useful 4 hour chunks, our default physical state is still defined by exhaustion. While I was initially worried that I was defining our baby as a "problem to be solved" more than a "miracle to be beheld", the former strategy seems to be the most practical one to pursue for the time being. The opportunities for interaction have thus far been minimal for it seems that most attempted forms interaction are deemed offensive by our two-week-old bundle of joy. Even a poorly timed photograph can set her off (see image).
Of course, all these difficulties do make the the precious moments that are free of full-diaphragm protestations all the more meaningful. After she had screamed herself to exhaustion during her bath yesterday (an event which followed her frankly disgusting umbilical cord stub finally falling off) she did calm down and the two of us enjoyed a moment of parent/child affection that resembled the rapport one might expect between a father and his infant daughter. As her skin adjusts to an environment that does not consist primarily of amniotic fluid, her skin - especially around her feet and hands - have begun to peel in a somewhat reptilian manner. With her propped up against my bent legs, I spent about an hour massaging her tiny extremities with baby lotion and for once, she did not seem to mind. I also brushed her thin but remarkably substantial amount of hair, noting that after being washed it's color was in fact much lighter than we had originally thought.
Of course, she eventually grew tired of my affections and started screaming again once she determined that my nipples were of no use to her.
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