For 40 weeks--in my case 41--your life is filled with intense expectation. It gathers momentum as you gather the pounds and punches from inside. The waiting is big, it fills everything and dictates most of what is done in those weeks of pregnancy. Then, the baby is born and a little hurricane stirs up the house. Then, she's a week old and life has settled on yet another angle of repose where repeated feedings and rocking have set the rhythm of a life that was before all uphill anticipation. It is a strange feeling to not be waiting anymore. Although I barely have a moment to sit down and write a few lines (I've attempted this post several times previous to now), I feel like the world has stopped and is awaiting my next move and I don't have one planned. It is a hard emotion to explain, have you ever felt this? It is probably where the post-partum blues stem from. I am trying to just let this "repose" wash over me. It is never a good idea to fight it. Hazel is beautiful and healthy. Craig is home a lot and the kids are happy. I couldn't be more blessed (okay, maybe a housekeeper would push it to perfection).