Life, my friends, is a whole new ball game.
From the moment our little guy entered the world and, through the noise and hustle and bustle that seemed to accompany the last few moments of labor, I heard the doctor say, "look down, look at your baby!" I have been living in a surreal world.
It was then, and still seems to be, almost impossible to wrap my head around the fact that what was once an abstract thought is now a solid little creature wrapped up in a baby burrito I can hold in my arms. When they whisked the baby away to clean out his lungs after delivery, I shared a sweet moment with my husband then insisted he follow the baby the five feet across the room to make sure he was okay. The time immediately following delivery is a little hazy to me--between the exhaustion and drugs all I can remember was demanding of everyone who came near me, "is he okay?" I remember hearing the baby squeal and my husband laugh from across the room, and that comforted me. He wouldn't be laughing if there was something wrong. I heard the nurse ask Husband, "does Dad want to hold him?" and then I watched, in that instant, my husband become a father. I knew he would be a fantastic parent, but I have been blown away watching my husband with our son--it is the most natural and easy love I think I have ever seen.
It was over an hour before I got Little Man into my arms--he was alert and looking around and following the sound of our voices. I immediately unwrapped him and counted fingers and toes (20 in total) and ran my hand down--you guessed it--that perfect little spine.
Unfortunately, Little Man has a couple of health issues that needed to be addressed--some jaundice, which is solved by a few days spend under the blue lights of a bililight, and some rapid breathing caused by a little fluid in the lungs. In the grand scheme of things, no big deal at all. But when the nurse looked at me after we'd been settled into our recovery room for less than an hour and said, "I'm not trying to distress you, but..." I thought my stomach was going to hit the floor. He started out in our room and was moved to the Special Care Nursery to be monitored more carefully. Husband jokes that one day he's going to tell our son he started out life in the spotlight with a series of his very own pretty nurses at his beckon call.
It was surprising, after all was said and done, to stop and think about doing something like checking my e-mail. It was even more surprising to realize I didn't really care what was waiting for me in my e-mail. Or in the news. Or in the blogs I usually religiously read. I am happy, for the time being, to live in my little microcosm of the hospital, where Little Man is all I have to think about and there is a never ending supply of apple juice and graham crackers in the little pantry down the hall.
I've taken care of a lot of kids in my life as a nanny. Everyone told me it would be different when it was my own. And they were right. It is so, so, SO much better.
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