I know that Chloe is trying as hard as she can. She probably feels the stiffness in my left arm when I cradle her to my chest. Or my self conscious smile as I remember those scientific studies on depressed mothers and delayed language skills of their children.

I sing Happy Birthday to her because I don't know any nursery rhymes. Patrice emailed me the lyrics to "My Favorite Things" from the movie, the Sound of Music.

I get tricked up on the "girls in white dresses" verse. She is only calm when someone is talking to her. So I will walk her down the hallway, explaining fascinating things like white paint and stucco, wood trim and mirrors.  
Most often it's a choice for me to hold Will or hold Chloe. I want so much for someone to take the baby so I can just watch her from across the room.  Will I love her as much as I love her father?