Outnumbered Two to One

After 24 hours of roaming hospital hallways, munching solely on ice chips, and having random nurses examine my cervix, my youngest son was finally delivered in to my eager, exhausted arms.

I was happy to see him and all, but right then I was more interested in the ham sandwich the nurse had promised to bring me. After not eating food for more than a day, I was famished. It was quite possibly the best sandwich I ever ate.

I have photos of myself in the hospital bed, holding the swaddled bundle in my arms, smiling for the camera and the nurse who offered to take the picture. I won’t display it here because while it is a sweet, satisfying moment, a woman after 24 hours of IV fluids, Pitocin injections, epidural administrations and an episiotomy…well she is clearly not in any condition to be photographed. My swollen nose alone seems to dwarf my 6 lb 4 oz baby by comparison. I won’t even go in to detail about my Fred Flintstone sized feet.

He was perfect though, the tiniest of all my babies and so worth the extended labor.

Happy Birthday to him.

And on to the terrible twos.