He was born at 6:27 pm, on Wednesday, January 23, eight pounds, 12 ounces and 21 inches long. The tears I shed immediately after his birth were the most thankful, relieved, and happy ones I’ve ever summoned. What had been abstract to me for so long was at once tangible, and so terribly loved.
It was not a particularly long labor, but things got complicated at delivery and we’ve been in the hospital since then. I’ll tell the whole story soon, but just not today. The highlights are: shoulder dystocia, blue baby, a cord wrapped tightly around his neck twice, and a subsequent suspected infection that landed him in the NICU. It looks like he’s going to be just fine, but the past few days have been an emotional roller coaster with a side of post-partum hormone crash cocktail.
I think I’m handling it well; I have verbally dressed down only one undeserving person. However, I have also ugly cried an unmentionable number of times in front of strangers.
I have been discharged, but Preston is still here on his sixth day of life. It was hard to leave the hospital without my baby (UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR), and on my birthday of all days, but if all goes according to plan he will be discharged on Wednesday, which is a hope I am absolutely CLINGING to at this point.
There are five of us now, and I’m hopeful that soon we’ll all be together. Finally.