Everything about this baby business is completely insane. Out of this world.

First, that you can actually just decide one day to produce another human being. I mean, there can't be anything more fantastic and unreal than that right there. "Hmm... Should I bake some cookies, or just make a kid?"

Then, you grow that new person inside you. For months. Just merrily walking around. La-di-da. With another individual living in your belly!

Now you would think that once your daughter is born, things would return to normal, barring any post-partum complications. But oh, no. Things just keep getting more surreal. Not only does your wife fall in love with another girl. Someone that just somehow automatically moved into your bedroom one day. On top of that, you're just fine with that. Suddenly, sharing your wife's love with another person is just dandy. You're even happy yourself that your wife is in love with this stranger. And then you become infatuated with her, too!

Then, the new girl starts growing. And growing. And growing and growing and growing. She adds 10% to her length in two weeks. And you delight in every new chin and skinfold she adds on. You start feeling like the witch in Hänsel und Gretel, cheering on your offspring on her way to becoming the Michelin man, or baby.

And then it's the every day insanity. For example breast-pumping. Your wife can actually be sitting in a chair, merrily reading a book, while a machine, attached to her breast, pumps ounces of milk out of her and into a bottle! You suddenly realize why the kid is growing so fast. It may not sound weird, but holding a full bottle of your wife's milk in your hand...

I'm telling you. Insanity!

Tomorrow, I'm buying a breast pump. Nature may have wanted my wife to continue waking up every three hours around the clock for months to come, but I'm putting my foot down. Now.

Hi. My wife is a sleep-o-holic. I mean it. She is literally hooked on sleep. The more the better. Although she is always beautiful, she is never more radiant than when she has slept twelve hours the night before. Then again, she can go on for days without getting any real sleep. But that takes it's toll on her. The color drains from her face. The smile fades. Her eyes become distant. Kind of like that night. After her surgery...

Anyways. I will buy a breast-pump tomorrow, and by week's end, we'll hopefully have enough milk to be able to send her off to the spare bedroom for a full, loooong, good night's sleep.

It will be a dream.

Went biking today. For the first time in two weeks. 30 miles. Felt okay while we were riding, but I was a little beat at the end. And quite dehydrated. The temperature hit 85° while we were out there. I guess that had something to do with it.

I guess life is slowly moving back into normality. Which is comforting.

Happy Birthday, baby girl!

I've taken to living every day to the fullest. Not that I wasn't almost doing that before all of this happened. But I would have thought this experience would take the wind out of me. Make me timid, scared for my life, and that of my wife and daughter.

But that hasn't happen. Actually, I find myself needing to watch out a bit for this new lust for life. For example, I drove down to New York the other day, to pick up a friend at the airport. I had never driven the car out of the area before. And it is a fast car. So I drove it very, very fast. It was just like being seventeen again. The exhiliration of driving fast was back. For a day.

I won't be doing that again. But something has changed. Life is more colorful. More intense. More precious. It's actually a miracle, come to think of it.

I just got a funny e-mail from someone who actually reads this weblog. He complains about the infrequency of my posts of late. He points out that if I neglected my newborn like I do my blog, I'd be sued!

And he's right. I have been neglecting the blog. It's just that since a few weeks ago, time has started to accelerate. The minutes are shorter, and the days seem to whiz by.

But I promise to try, even though there is no try.

We are slowly healing. And realizing how close we came. How everything almost stopped last week. That it could have been over now. Permanently.

Defining moments usually come unannounced. And it can take you a while to discover them, after they are gone. But this was a defining moment.

Somehow, the colors are more vivid now. The trees have never been more green.

Maybe it's just the rain.