Different But The Same

In the early morning hours of August 2nd, at 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant, my water broke. I woke in a daze, made a God-awful mess cried as I looked at The Boy's sleeping face - those chubby cheeks, those impossibly long eye lashes - then, 4 hours later, The Little Boy was born.

We left home at 5:30am, had The Little Boy at 8:30am and The Boy came for a visit by lunchtime. All of my angst about being apart from The Boy for days while I labored and recovered was for nought, and The Little Boy's first few hours - first two days, actually - were more like a stay in a not particularly fancy hotel than the shaky, weak, nervous time spent in the hospital after The Boy's birth while I recovered from a stubborn placenta and subsequent blood-loss.

I can even show picture of myself in public because I didn't look like a corpse.

While my super quick labor was far, far more painful this time than last time, the experience afterward was infinitely better. As soon as The Little Boy landed on my chest covered in goo I was in love, alert, thankful and... energetic. It was awesome! And it was made even better when The Boy came by to visit. I had never needed a hug so badly and he was so, so proud.

See...

We brought The Little Boy home two days later to an ecstatic paternal grandmother, a squealing big brother and a cat who barely noticed. Granny left two weeks ago and since then we've settled into our new life - completely different but still basically the same.