Come on, I had to finish what I started, right?
Hugo was born about six hours before I officially reached the 38-week mark in my pregnancy, which was of course a lot earlier than we were expecting him. Truthfully, I kind of always suspected he might come a little bit before my due date—how else to explain the packed hospital bag, the well-stocked diaper drawer, and the carefully washed and folded onesies, THANK GOODNESS—and I guess maybe I was sort of secretly hoping he might be born on July 14th, which would have been my Omi's 87th birthday, but when I woke up at 2am a couple of Fridays ago to find that my water had broken, the first thought in my head was "Really? Now?"
(The second thought was "Hang on, did my water break? Or did I just pee myself?" Then I spent a lot of time on google.)
Thank you all so much for your kind words and congratulations on our new arrival. I hope you will forgive me if this entry is rather short, but if you have ever spent two weeks in the company of a newborn, you'll know that it's a bit of a rollercoaster, specifically a rather emotionally-charged and overwhelming rollercoaster during which you sleep only in several-hour increments and spend a surprising amount of time with cabbage leaves stuffed in your bra (hey, someone get Disneyland on the line because I've got a great idea for their next amusement park ride!)
That said, we're now two weeks into it—two weeks! I have a two-week old who wasn't even supposed to be here yet!—and are slowly starting to settle into.....well, not a routine, exactly, but something slightly more orderly and managable than those first few whirlwind days. It helps that Hugo mostly just seems to sleep, eat, and look adorable so far—I am well aware that this will change fairly soon once he realizes he's out of the womb, but I'm soaking it all in for now—and we're incredibly lucky that we've had kind and generous family and friends taking care of us since we got home from the hospital. (Actually, they were taking care of us in the hospital too. Case in point: my mother smuggling in a handbagful of egg salad sandwiches—crusts carefully cut off—the day after I gave birth. Always with those egg salad sandwiches! They truly are the best you've ever tasted.)
I have so much more I want to write about—Hugo's birth, Hugo's first couple of weeks at home, the ridiculous extent to which Sean and I are both joyfully, ecstatically, overwhelmingly in love with Hugo—but I'm trying to stick to that old "sleep when the baby sleeps" adage, which I have to begrudgingly admit is helpful, even if it does rather cut into my staring-in-wonderment-at-the-baby time.
I will just say this though, and I hope it's not too sickly sweet: I am so blissfully happy with my new little family that I can hardly even believe I got so lucky. Even when I'm up at 3am for the fourteenth night in a row.