I've had baby on the brain.
My sister just brought a healthy baby boy into the world.
(Ok, technically she's not my sister, but I hate the term 'best friend', it makes it sound as though we're ten. Besides 'best friend' doesn't quite seem to do what we are justice. For the purposes of privacy, we'll call her Suzie, which is also the name of my beloved childhood teddy bear.)
I don't actually like babies. Don't get me wrong, it's not as though I dislike babies, I've just never been one to get particularly mushy over them. They cry, they eat, they pee, they poop, they sleep. (Ok, they do have adorable little clothes and softies and stuff.)
My own was the only one I ever really liked enough to be around, but I could never seem to get enough of him.
I'm actually kinda afraid of babies. They tend to make me nervous, kinda like when I'm in a big fancy house and I'm afraid of bumping into the table, toppling and breaking some priceless treasure.
So I don't actually have much experience with babies. The Boy is the only one under the age of two I've ever held or changed. Or at least, he was the only one until now.
(Sorry, I tend to ramble when I've got a lot on my mind, which is why I usually don't bother to write it all down.)
Suzie had an unpleasant pregnancy, filled with the constant worry of a mother's rising blood pressure. She was a trooper though, refused to let it get her down, and even pissed me off a few times, insisting on handling her shit on her own. She gets that damn pride from her daddy. Luckily she's a hell of a lot smarter than he is!
She wanted this baby so badly. Perhaps it was because she wanted it so badly, and not that she felt sick the whole time, that made us both worried so much that something would go wrong.
I kept telling her it was just the penis. "Of course you're going to gain more weight, it's the penis...of course you're going to be sick, it's the penis...of course it's going to be a difficult delivery, it's the penis."
All the while, I prayed. If God has "triage" angels, they probably got a real hoot out of the chick repeating "please God, let it just be the penis"!
I had never really seen Suzie sick before. Oh, I've been around for cramps, snotty noses, bad backs and even a funny woooshing sound that now lived in her ear, but this was serious sick. This was "blood pressure could spike up to the point of aneyurism or stroke" serious. I suddenly understood why, all those years ago, my husband told the doctor to save me if we could only save one. God meant for The Boy to be here, so they saved us both. I kept praying God meant for Suzie's little boy to be here too.
Suzie has spent an awful lot of time worrying about me over the years, worried about my health, fussing at me to quit smoking. This go around, I was the one worrying and I instantly felt like complete shit for every cigarette I ever tried to hide from her and every doctor's appointment I skipped.
The baby wasn't actually due until December 12, but I started telling her to keep her legs squeezed together and began answering her calls with, "Is it time yet?" the first week of November. She decided to fuck with me once by insisting that it was, so you can imagine the relief AND disbelief when, last Monday, it was finally time!
I picked her daughter up from 1st grade we could meet them at the hospital.
At 5:25 the following afternoon, Tuesday, November 20, Suzie delivered a healthy baby boy, weighing 5lbs., 3 ozs., measuring 18.5 inches long. Her husband and her mama were with her. (Her mama wasn't there for the first one, so that was extremely special.)
At the time, I was at the office, throwing a newspaper together on deadline, on the phone with her "blood-kin" sister, deciding who was going to call the hospital.
I felt much better about things later that night when I saw for myself that both mother and baby were safe. They got to come home Friday.
She lucked up (again) and didn't tear and says she isn't too awfully sore. She's just pissed cause she thinks she still looks pregnant! Hehehe, I know, I know, we expect the belly to go away the minute we have the baby, but it doesn't! We knew this, that's why they tell us to plan on going home in clothes we wore when we were 3-5 months pregnant, not clothes we wore right before conception, but it never fails to shock the hell out of us that we still walk out of the hospital with a baby belly!
It took the baby a day or two to figure out there's no more free lunch through the cord — that he can't just lay around in his mama's belly sleeping all day. Now that he has, everyone is home healthy and happy.
He looks like a little old man in his wrinkled up skin. I play with the wrinkles around his elbows and knees. It's amazing how much growing he has to do just to fill up all that skin, and almost scary to think of how quickly it will happen. Just like all little boys at the start of a growth spurt, he has big feet. He hates for you to mess with his feet and even wants to keep his socks on. He squeaks before he cries.
I loved him from the moment I knew he existed. Now I can quit worrying so much about him and his mama and go by him some cool socks!