Hawkeye

I've noticed subtle changes in our behavior over the last few weeks, quite obviously as a result of Nuha's arrival into the world. We now live life in three hour bursts, necessitated primarily by the gap in Nuha's feeding times. We team up and split baby responsibilities to enhance productivity - Saeeda feeds the baby, I burp and change her, then whichever one of us can keep our eyelids propped open will put the baby to sleep. Finally, we now choose entertainment options that fit our schedules, such as using the Netflix movie delivery service over watching a movie in the theater.

But perhaps no change has been more dramatic than the heightening of my wife's senses. Like a superhero subjected to high doses of radiation, Saeeda has developed an enhanced sense of awareness that put's Peter Parker's Spidey Sense to shame. Her ability to hear subsonic sounds is mind-boggling. We can be watching a tv show in our living room, and in the middle of the ridiculously loud commercial break Saeeda will matter-of-factly announce that she hears the baby, and walk over to our bedroom to check on her. I'll skeptically grunt, and secretly congratulate myself on remaining comfortable rather than worrying needlessly - until, that is, I see Saeeda walk around with a baby just ready to wake up and be fed. Although I am jealous that I haven't developed this superpower, I am happy that at least one of us has. This is a good thing, because it means we're more aware of when Nuha need's attention.

Sleeping arrangements are a different matter. Whatever superpowers that Saeeda has gained, they do not stretch to the visible spectrum. She cannot, for some reason, see in the dark, which leads to extremely annoying bedtime habits. For one, the bathroom light must constantly remain on through the night so that it allows Saeeda to see the baby at periodic intervals. Not an unreasonable request, except for the fact that the lighthouse-strength beam from the bathroom bulbs falls right on my face, and the fact that I'm not allowed to shut the bathroom door a smidgen to blunt this blazing output doesn't really help matters.

For another, Saeeda must sleep right on the edge of our king-sized bed, practically hanging off all solid surfaces, so that her face is suspended into the baby's crib while her body is only nominally on our bed. She achieves this in part by pulling the crib so close to our bed that it is practically fused with it. Before the baby, our bed used ot be a beautiful place of rest and relaxation, where both our tall frames fit comfortably, and yet where we were simultaneously able to enjoy intimate proximity. Those days are long gone. While I continue to sleep in my normal spot, Saeeda now places herself in a small bundle at the foot of our bed, in the aforementioned, gravity-defying pose. I've included a little diagram in this post to help you understand how far apart we sleep now.

Saeeda tells me this is so that she can keep a watch over the baby. Again, why her powers do not extended to the visual senses, I don't understand. What I do know is that I miss my wife. Perhaps one day she will sleep near me again.