All day (well, at least since we got home from the hospital around noonish), it's gone like this:
Feed baby. Apply copious amounts of Lasinoh cream.
Swaddle baby. Realize that there is indeed a huge difference between "swaddling blankets" and "receiving blankets," and that difference is a crucial extra six inches or so in length.
Put baby in bassinet. Go to computer and try desperately to think of some way to even begin to describe what has happened to us.
Baby cries. Ditch Internet like last week's garbage.
(There are also frequent doses of Percoset.)
(And tales of a husband and brand-new papa so amazing you wouldn't believe me if I told you.)
Anyway, we have a baby. Noah Corbin, delivered via emergency c-section after 10 hours of rapid-crazy-fire labor and one hour of pushing.
The surgery saved Noah's life.
But that's a whole other story, and one that I want to tell you the right way.
Just not today. Today this is all that matters.
Welcome home, little Prince of Everything. You're even better than anything we ever imagined you to be.
(Ceiba would like to tell you all that IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT. PEE ON THE CARPET AND THEN RUN FOR YOUR LIVES.)