It’s not that we don’t remember the sleepless nights and days that blur one into another, the perpetual exhaustion to the point of aches and pains, the little prayers one mutters when the baby begins stirring, the half-awake-half-asleep state of being that can linger for hours, the thought that just an hour of solid sleep would be worth a four-figure sum. We don’t forget it. We just forget what it feels like.
The correlative of this is the desperation one feels to make sure that the child sleeps any chance and place possible.
Note: at least one photo staged…