I hum a tune as I hold her. When her fussing reaches a crescendo, I modify the tune a bit, trying to divert her attention, but it is no use. I think about the tune for a moment as I sway and bounce. I think I must know the name of it, but I can’t recall. It is something classical, I think, and I should know it. I would know it, but my brain needs sleep in order to function properly, and sleep is in short supply these days. I try to focus, try to forget that my hair smells of baby puke and that I’ve changed my shirt 5 times already.

I have rocked and walked. I have made funny faces and bounced her around. She has been fed and changed and fed again. Still, she cries. I wrap and unwrap the blanket, sit her up, lie her down. I keep humming because I don’t know the words–if there are any–and I don’t know what else to do.

Suddenly she stops crying and looks at me intently. She smiles. She concentrates until her eyes cross then makes a little noise, a little coo.

I am undone.

I am in love with this child, and everything she has required of me is worth it.

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