We were sitting on the glider swing in the backyard. It was a lovely morning, cool there in the shade, and the air was full of fragrance from your rose garden. I was holding Jana, who seemed to enjoy the gentle movement of the swing.
But I wasn't enjoying anything just then. I'd had a rough night. Jana was six weeks old and had been up every few hours. I, fretful and nervous as only a new mother can be, had been having trouble falling back to sleep between her feedings. I was cranky and tired, and not feeling cheerful about this motherhood business at all.