Samantha is in my arms. She just gulped down 3 ounces of formula, and now she has passed out asleep, completely limp. Her lips are bow shaped and still wet with milk, moving slightly to the rhythm of her phantom sucking. Her eyelids are moving slightly to whatever babies dream about. She is the most beautiful daughter any mother could wish for. I know she’ll wake soon. Eventually her lips will turn down into a most sad pout, and I will once again try to guess what will make this perfect creature happy, but at this moment, I have guessed correctly and I hold a blissful infant in my arms. I feel like a goddess.