Dancing in the dark

We spent a large portion of the first few months with Sebastian in the dark - literally. He was born in the fall, and before we knew it, fall gave way to winter with its 3 p.m. sunsets and looooong nights. With a new baby in the house, we walked around on tiptoe whenever he was sleeping (which was most of the time in those good old days) and kept the lights low. Our bedroom pretty much had a small orange night-light burning in it for 3 months straight - and nothing else. I'd sit on the bed with the boppy and Sebi both curled around me, nursing him for what seemed like endless hours. I remember once flipping out because I felt like my entire world had narrowed to that one, dark room. Probably pretty close to how Sebi felt.

As time passes, we have become "experts" at navigating in the dark. We can pretty much perform all his basic functions in complete darkness (or little to no light) - feeding, diapering, putting to bed. We can maneuver around the little obstacles in his room and ours, we can reach out and unerringly put our hand on the bottle of water one of us left on his nightstand (not its usual place), we can even organize his room and put away toys, books, etc. in the dark. And without making a sound (because all this usually happens while he's asleep - or we want him to be.)

I know this experience will stand us in good stead, because it is a great metaphor for parenting in general. Most of our decisions feel like shots in the dark. We try something out and then wait, holding our breath, for it to come crashing down....or not (phew!) Once we have figured something out, we very quickly become masters at it, maneuvering deftly through the steps, handing off to each other, flawlessly moving through our dance. And then he changes. It is usually something small - like deciding to eat less, or wake up earlier. Suddenly we falter (or come to a crashing halt) - our steps are no longer in sync. We feel like we're moving at odds, blundering about in unfamiliar territory, bumping our shins (and egos) on every new thing. "Who went and rearranged everything on us???"

But, 9 month veterans that we are, we regroup, listen to the new tune playing, and start the new dance. Oh, and then the exhilaration hits us again - of being in perfect harmony as we weave our lives. And we forget (or put bandaids on) the bruised shins.

Shall we dance?