Wednesday, April 23, 2008

4 Years and 2 Days Later

Since this blog is just months old and each birthday and anniversary has a story to tell, I thought I was going to share my oldest daughter's birth story with you this week as it is her birthday and all.

Once upon a time I was pregnant. The baby was a week late. I cried until the doctor agreed to induce me. Things were not smooth during my labor and delivery. I didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl. I have a beautiful and healthy daughter. The end.

Moving on.

What I've decided to focus on instead is the day I brought her home from the hospital. I'm still not sure the hospital made a wise decision letting us leave with the baby and no qualified personnel. I mean, we had tried to adopt a dog from the shelter a year before and we were turned down but the baby - sure, go ahead, take her. (Oh, and before you get all nervous, we love animals and our dog is alive, well and I think pretty damn happy. Screw those shelter people.)

I remember waking up that morning in the hospital and realizing that I needed to actually get both of dressed and out of there by 11 am. The task seemed insurmountable. Huh. That was kind of how I felt this morning trying to get out of the house. Clearly, not much has changed and this whole parenting thing is best done in pajamas. But I digress...

We did finally get dressed and even managed to get the baby buckled in to the carseat (with help from the nurse). I sat in the backseat with the baby while my husband drove us home. The baby slept peacefully the whole way. I thought this was going to be easy.

We went home and introduced the baby to our dog who immediately fell in love. We opened presents, visited with family and played around in the nursery. It was a wonderful, magical kind of day. The baby slept most of the day. She nursed well enough.

Then the sun went down, the visitors left and those baby eyes opened. She wailed. All. Night. Long. She did not nurse. She didn't do anything but cry. Neither did I.

Our days evened out from there and although she never went back to breastfeeding, we found our rhythym. If I had to do it again, I wouldn't change a thing. That wonderful first day home with her was worth the horror of the first night. Yet, I'm glad we don't have to do it again.


Anonymous said...

The joys of bringing baby home. Doesn't it always go the same way? It is an impressionable memory every time, though.

Vicki said...

Happy Birthday! Love the story and how you sat in the back on the way home. I always did that, too..

Kimber said...

Aww, the first days are the most memorable. It's the stuff afterwards feed/sleep/change/burp/repeat for months that you forget more easily.

Kimber said...

P.S. Hope she got that disco ball. Now I want one.