The night my mom left I had a nervous breakdown. I was 100% confident that I could take care of Paityn and keep her happy; it was the fact that my buddies were leaving and the fear of being bored all day suddenly set in. It didn’t feel like this new baby required enough of me to fill all the hours in the day. My anxiety of not staying busy is worse than I thought. Or it sure was that night: “5 more weeks, 5 weeks until I can go back to work at night. If she was bottle fed I could go back tomorrow!” I had cried to Landon.
But that right there was enough; my desire to be successful at breastfeeding for an extended amount of time outweighed my anxiety of being lonely and bored. So we fell asleep cuddled up and by midweek when it was just Pait and I we started to develop our own little schedule. My love for her began to grow, ever so simply still, more and more every day.
I am blessed with a very easy baby. Any drive we took her on, she is beyond happy. Around family she’s cuddly and content. On dates she’s ok with her parents teasingly fighting over who gets to hold her this time “no Kyra it’s myy turn.” At night, she’s a real team player and will pass out for most all of the night. She puts up with our constant picture taking, isn’t picky about pacifiers, doesn’t fight us on our outfit choices, holds her cries during dad’s tender church talk in sacrament meeting, and stays nice and newborn size for us. Wait Pait! You’re not supposed to do that.