I'm in the nursery holding Sam. She'd been giving this piteous wail that sounded like she had a nightmare, and I went into comfort her. She's an armful now. I know she'll just get bigger, but right now she feels heavy, solid. I remember what she was like when we brought her home. She barely covered my belly button, much less my tummy, chest and upper legs like she does now. I was so scared when she was born, so overwhelmed. I'd spent the whole pregnancy with grief and fear. Now I have this little person, and she is astonishing.

I realized why I don't like taking her out in the cold. I can't tell if she is warm enough. She is apart from me, and I have to guess how she feels. Experts warn parents about the child going through separation anxiety, but no one talks about the mother's separation. She was in me, with the largest umbilical cord ever seen. Now she is outside and I am left to guess what I can do to help her. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to reattach the cord! I am just trying to cope with strong feelings and a tremendous sense that I actually do know what she is feeling, and then sometimes I am wrong. Of course, I'm not psychic and sometimes I'll be wrong. It just seems like I should be pychic.