Yes, Please

A baby swing? Yes, please.

A nightlight? Yes, please.
A musical mobile? Yes, please.

A tiny lamp? Yes, please.

A baby carrier? Why, sure ...

There is no item too expensive, no object too unsightly (and many baby products are), no item too bulky or ridiculous that we weren't willing to buy (or at least consider ... then buy) to give us a few more minutes of sleep. We're about to add a white noise maker to our arsenal today, in fact. Perhaps it will add flare to the star maker already in her crib ...

The first two weeks of our baby's life, I cried at night. I mean, I cried. The more the baby cried, the more I cried. She wanted to eat every two hours, day and night, and didn't think much of taking naps. When she did nap, an immature part of me wanted to wake her up and say, "How do you like it? Huh? Huh?"

Yes, I'm not proud of my entry to motherhood, but until you've had a screaming baby kicking in your arms at 3 a.m. who has gas trapped in her belly but doesn't know it so insists on eating more which will only make her spit up--while your upstairs neighbor paces the floor--you don't know what you're capable of feeling.

My husband, who is the most calm person I have ever known, didn't fare much better. He'd start out strong early in the evening, but by 2 a.m., with work looming in a few hours, the smiles would fade. One night I found him in a chair in the the living room, rocking the baby. She was asleep, but I could tell he had broken himself to get there. All he could say was, "We had it out. I just let her cry."

It's the kind of pitiful scene where you want to hold up your parenting class certificates and say, "See, Baby? We're qualified, I tell you. Just let us use these techniques we've learned, and I'm sure we'll all be happier." Did we wish we could've thought of another way to make things easier?

Yes, please.