I've been woken up every two to three hours all night by a crying baby who wants to eat. I dutifully get up, change his diaper and settle in for the 40 minute feeding. I then take the fussy baby (fussy only because I've taken my breast out of his sleepy, open mouth) and try to get him back to sleep which sometimes requires only a few pats on the back but other times requires 10-40 minutes of walking, bouncing, singing, rocking, etc. Once he's asleep I place him in his bed and pray that the transfer doesn't wake him up. Then, I drift off to sleep until we repeat the process all over again.
But right now, after a morning feeding, I sit on the couch while my peacefully sleeping baby snuggles into my chest. I'm exhausted, but my heart is full.
My head tells me to put him in his bed so I can get up and clean the kitchen or tidy up the house or start a load of laundry or squeeze in a quick shower or write more thank you notes or take a nap.
But my heart says to stay put because I only have five more weeks at home with him before returning to work, he'll never be this small again, and there will come a day where he won't want to snuggle on me any more.
So I think I'll just sit here and watch is little face, listen to him breathe and soak in all that is my sweet six-week-old boy. The rest of the world can wait :-)