Remember how I thought the Olympics were going to be a great distraction for the unending final weeks of my pregnancy? Well, go figure - I went into labor less than 24 hours after my first post! My water broke at 9pm Saturday, we were at the hospital by 10pm, and an IV of antibiotics, pitocin, more pitocin, a shower, a birthing ball, more pitocin, fentinol, lots of tears, an epidural, the best nap ever, 8 more centimeters and an hour of pushing later, little Miss V made her joyful debut at 4:41 Sunday afternoon! She showed off her healthy lungs as hubby and I checked her for the right number of fingers and toes, and she scored 9s on her Apgar tests. Clever darling.
Those two days in the hospital are now a bit of a blur, filled with many nice nurses, lots of ice, and a slow realization that a) I was no longer pregnant and b) we were someone's parents. Miss V might well be the cutest baby in the entire world, not that we're prejudiced or anything. She is surrounded by a huge gang of loving family and friends, who seem to agree with us on the cuteness factor. We're settling into a routine at home, and while both of us would prefer to sleep through the night just once we're not complete zombies (yet). V will be two weeks old tomorrow (two weeks! how is that possible?) and on Wednesday, I'll be 40 weeks pregnant. HAH!
As it turns out, the Olympics have been a wonderful companion for V's first days of life. We've held her, fed her, tickled her and kissed her as Michael Phelps won 8 golds, as Nastia Liukin won the overall, as the US track teams dropped batons and May&Walsh rocked the heck out of beach volleyball. And thank goodness (mostly) for DVR, because even sleep-deprived new parents need to go to bed sometime and we can catch up on the events the next day (the mostly is for when events run beyond the scheduled time and the DVR cuts off before the final round of gymnastics or the last set of volleyball - grr!)
One final note: Bob Costas is my hero.
No comments:
Post a Comment