There is so much more to tell — the birth, for example — that it’s overwhelming. So I’m giving you a paragraph:
The morning after Isaac’s first full night, a mostly wakeful affair, as they have been. Rowan woke up earlier than usual, about 5:45 a.m. Rachel, bless her, tried to steer him downstairs so that I could sleep, but he wanted to come in to see me and baby Isaac, curled up like an apostrophe next to me. Rowan, enormous, piled in next to his brother, and Rachel next to him. And we lay there for awhile, two parents with our two sons between us, awash in exhaustion and sweetness. I stretched my toes towards Rachel’s, she her toes toward mine, and they met at the bottom of the bed, the tip of a heart.