It's funny, the last minute things you think to do before you go to the hospital for an induction. Things like brushing the cat and flossing my teeth, things I knew I would never have time to do once the baby was here.
And, indeed, the cat and my teeth have hardly been remembered since we left for the hospital Monday morning.
Story Rose was born on Monday, February 24th, at 8:44 pm. Her labor and birth were completely different from Collin's in just about every way, and she's sticking to that theme. She's the most mellow presence in the house right now, calm and quiet. So long as she has a boob to nurse, Story is content. Is this a second baby thing? Because I remember feeling a lot more haggard and stressed when Collin was a newborn.
Ironically, all the things that were the hardest to get used to the first time I became a mom, i.e. the non-stop nursing, are the things I treasure most this time around. All I want to do is snuggle in bed and nurse the baby. It's unfortunately not as easy as that this time, as I feel I'm constantly having to shield her from her big brother's enthusiasm. Collin, as I figured he would, LOVES Story. He loves her so much, he wants to smush her and pounce her and slobber all over her. It's sweet and endearing, but a little bit terrifying.
Collin, despite all his energetic craziness, does love his baby sister so very much. When he came to see her for the first time, I wanted everything to be perfect. Mike went and got him and brought him to the hospital. I kept Story occupied in the bassinet until they arrived because I wanted my arms to be free to hug Collin. Collin was so excited to see the baby that he clamored onto my bed to get a look at her, cooed over her in wide-eyed amazement, then said, "Where's Mommy?"
Um, right here? You're in my lap, Collin.
Everyone is in love with Story. She's kind of hard not to love. She's just a tiny bundle of newborn with deep, dark eyes and jet black hair. I can't figure out who she looks like. She came here looking like herself, I guess.
The hardest part of my post pardom period so far has been leaving the hospital. The reality of having an infant and a toddler hit me as we were walking out the door, and Story was crying in her car seat as Collin ran amuck, completely ignoring everything we said to him. It was pouring rain outside, and I stood there with all my stuff and watched blankly out the doors and cried. A kind orderly told me how hard it was so for her to take home her second baby. I cried the whole car ride home. "But we don't have any ice at home! I really like ice."
Husband went to the pharmacy and got my prescriptions, and two bags of ice. He hasn't sat down since. He has been cooking, cleaning, diapering, potty training, rocking, and wrangling. He has been doing it all, and insisting that I do nothing. I feel like I've won the husband lottery. When he goes back to work, my plan for survival is to find a hole to crawl into and hope for the best.
That will work, right?