Our little baby girl was a bit fussy last night.

She’s a week old. In truth, she hasn’t been too bad at night. The night before last, my wife and I both got a decent night sleep. Granted, it’s very easy for me to say that since I’m not the one getting up every 2 hours to feed her. But as far as newborns go, it hasn’t been terrible.

Last night was tough. I think she has her first cold because she was sneezing and doing baby snorts all night.

I kept waking up to see Jules struggling to get her to calm down. It was 1:30 and I could see the tired in Jules’ eyes. I decided I needed to get out of bed and help out.

At 2 o’clock, I took our little girl and walked around the bedroom with her in my arms. I turned the light out and Jules quickly fell asleep. Eventually I took her downstairs so that her random cries didn’t startle and wake Jules.

I walked downstairs and paced around the first floor for 45 minutes. I held little Willow. She fell asleep in my arms and stayed asleep the whole time.

After an hour, I knew it was only a matter of time until she got hungry again. So I brought her back upstairs and I sat with her on the big fluffy chair we have in our bedroom.

I sat there, in the dark, alone in the silence. I felt unbelievably grateful.

I felt proud to be a man who can take responsibility. I felt good know that Jules was in bed getting sleep she so badly needed.

I felt happy to know that I now have a little girl. She’s so little. It’s such a different experience than Julian. Julian was and is such a hamburger. Willow is a little French fry. She’s the sweetest thing.

Eventually, I walked back over to the bassinette and put her back down. She laid there for another hour, sleeping.

I fell back asleep and when I woke up, Jules was sitting up, smiling, with little Willow on her lap.