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“You were sleep-deprived and imagining things.” He smirked.
“So, how is her routine right now?” Sabrina asked.
“Her routine consists of sleepless nights, ten-minute naps during the day, eating until she vomits everything up, and having multiple diaper explosions,” I answered.
“Her schedule is chaos, and we live under Baby Law,” Damien chimed in.
Sabrina smiled. “That sounds about normal.”
“Yesterday, I took her outside for a walk, and she looked up, saw a cloud, and started screaming because it existed. She’s a non-stop screamer.”
“I run a multi-billion-dollar company and easily close multi-billion-dollar deals. But if I even think about warming up a bottle one degree too hot, I get screamed at,” Damien said.
“Have you two gotten any rest at all since her birth?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that word means,” I said.
“I closed my eyes in the shower once,” Damien said.
“Okay. If you’ll have me, I’m in,” Sabrina said.
“You’re—you’re in?” My eyes widened.
“Oh yeah. You two are a disaster. But you love her, and that’s what matters the most.”
“We only need you until she sleeps through the night,” Damien said.
“I’m aware, Mr. Blackwood.” She smiled. “I’ve been a baby night nurse for over twenty years.”
“You are now our favorite person.” I smiled as tears stung my eyes, thinking about all the sleep coming my way.
* * *
Two Weeks Later
Sleep had becomeour best friend, and I would never take it for granted again. Hiring Sabrina was the best thing we’d ever done. We moved Daisy to her crib, so Sabrina could care for her at night while we slept uninterrupted. It was a miracle, and I felt more human than I ever had.
Today, Daisy was one month old, and I wanted to do a photoshoot of her. Instead of hiring a professional to take the pictures, Damien and I wanted to do it ourselves. Was that a good idea? I didn’t know, but we’d find out soon enough.
I set up the backdrop: a wrinkled pink sheet clipped to a curtain rod, which Damien hung from one of the living room windows. I grabbed the box of props from the corner—the stuffed fox, a small crown, and a chalkboard that said, “One Month of World Domination.”
Damien adjusted the ring light I purchased from Etsy one night at two a.m.
“Okay,” he said, pointing his phone like a film director. “Place her on the blanket, but do it artistically.”
“And how do I do that? She has the posture of a potato,” I said.
“She needs angles, Willa.”
I set her down on her tummy with the plush fox beside her.
“She’s smiling!” Damien exclaimed, pushing the button on his phone.
“I think she’s pooping,” I said.
Suddenly, the ultimate explosion happened. She rolled on her back, hit the fox, and graced it with her poop.
“She rolled!” Damien shouted.