The first weeks with a newborn are a time outside of time. We are required to align our circadian habits with those of a tiny amphibian, scarcely a separate being, newly landed and previously familiar only with a watery darkness. This merging is not a recipe for remaining in touch with time or reality. It is one for floating in an airy expanse of emotion and intensity. Sometimes despair. But always love. Nights bleed into days in a perpetual twilight punctuated with moments of purest joy, until one day, you find your baby has transformed into a little person, and he is asking you, “Mama, is the moon sleeping?”