I don’t think that there is anything that can prepare you for the feeling of seeing and holding your child for the first time. She was so small, helpless, and so frighteningly quiet. There was no screaming like in the movies. She just looked around.
There were so many different feelings I think my brain gave up on trying to process and interpret them. I was kind of numb, actually.
The docs let me cut the cord. It was already cut, so my snip-snip was only ceremonial. It was good, though, and I didn’t feel light-headed in the least. Yay me!
After an hour or so in the recovery room, we went back to the room where we would spend the next few days. Lilly and the Toolbox had arrived while we were in recovery, moved all of our stuff to the new room. My folks arrived a short time later. There were hugs all around, and lots of proud looks from the grandfathers. The grandmothers took turns holding the little bundle of joy. Caroline’s husband arrived with their daughter Julianna (who had been a “practice baby” for us), as well as the The Kid’s Godparents. The Kid was the center of attention, but didn’t realize it.
The hospital had Wi-Fi, and I had my laptop, so I was able to get the word out via email to all and sundry, including the good folks over at The Flight Deck.
By 10 that evening, we were alone with the Kid for the first time. We looked at her, and looked at each other, and wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. We tried to sleep, but woke up every hour or so asking “Is she OK? She’s not making any noise.” It turns out that’s pretty normal for the first day or so.
For the next 2 days, there was a steady stream of health-care professionals dropping by, and by Wednesday we were cleared to go home.
Next up: The Days Begin to Blur