Last night Perry slept 5 hrs and 3 hrs. Much better than the atrocity that was the night before. And we just woke up from a delicious two-hour nap. She has never been a consistently good sleeper, and sleep training has always felt like, “It’s all Greek to me.” I’ve resorted to letting her (carefully) co-sleep with me a lot of nights. Which is precious, but not entirely practical. She’s also always been a bit of a noisy sleeper (much less so now) and Matt had to start retreating to the couch to get any sleep, cause unfortunately he’s not blessed with the typical male brain that can sleep through night time feedings and diaper changes. Sleep deprivation is a crazy thing! It rewires my brain for mild insanity. But morning always comes, and with it, a renewed sense of strength. Honestly, I don’t know how mothers physically survive pregnancy, and then survive childbirth. Then, with no recovery time, have to survive sleepless nights and more physical changes while our bodies try to heal. Then you get brave enough to turn around and do it all over again. It’s shown me in a whole new way how strong the power of Love is. Matt and I look at each other daily and comment on how we’d do anything for our daughter. We’re wrapped around her finger. This life is savage and yet beautiful. Rugged and yet irresistible. With love as the sinews and rivers that flow through and bind us together. I’ll remind myself to take a few more deep breaths on the long nights. The nights may be long, but the years are so short.