One of the questions that I most hated when each of my children was very little was,  “Is (s)he a good baby?”  Such a sweet and well intentioned question, really meaning something along the lines of, “Are you alright? Or has the arrival of this small person so turned your world around that you no longer know which way is up?”  It was, I think now, really just a way of letting me know I was seen, that the boundaries of me hadn’t dissolved completely in the fog of milk and sleeplessness that so marks this period. But I never knew how to answer it. I didn’t have a baseline…