Dear J-
So, best laid plans and all that: figgy broke with a little diarrhea this morning, which immediately disqualified her from daycare, and thus we ended up making an emergency shopping trip to Target for some toys to keep her busy today. And the winner of that particular derby was not the snap-together beads nor the spiny blocks. Nope — it was the cheap markers and Hello Kitty notebooks we picked up from the dollar aisle that held her attention best, better than a new brother, better than grandma and grandpa, better than TV. Well, not better than TV.
The big news of the day is therefore Calcifer, who weighs in at 6 pounds, 11 ounces and 19 inches long. There were times today I wanted to divide myself in two; you’re only allowed one other person in the operating room besides the mom, and so I had to abandon figgy to her grandparents for the half hour or so it took to perform the birth rituals: no slapping bottoms, but cord cutting, putting the baby on mom’s chest, etc. Even now I’m stuck thinking I should be back in the hospital, helping out but I suppose that being with figgy is what I (and she) needs. The memories from three and a half years ago kept flooding back, from the deep newborn outrage to what I think were the same nurses telling the same jokes. There are some advantages to being consistent: I remembered everything I really needed to, but with the added wrinkle of having figgy along, everything was new again.
We hadn’t planned on having figgy around during the birth — pick her up a little early from daycare and go see mom and brother perhaps — but it worked out perfectly as I thought it might in the end: the process is a little less mystifying, and she’s comfortable with the hospital, more or less, making free with the nurses and taking outrageous advantage of her innocent looks. It’s better this way even though it’s been the longest day, filled with worry and anticipation, struggle and chaos, but mostly life and love.
Mike
Dear J- 