So, where were we? Last night was a freaking daze. I’ve never been so tired (waiting for the Simpsons’ Nelson character blast me with a “just wait” comment). Last thing I remember was unrolling this horrible torture device (or, possibly divan?) which was about the thickness of a “P” encyclopedia or a shortstack of pancakes. It slept like if you were to fall from a twelve-story building and land on the sidewalk. Sure, it hurts, but it hurts more to try and get up. So I just laid there. On my belly. All night. Because a metal rode the gauge of a ski pole is much more comfortable going across your belly than your back.
Here’s our little baby Ellison. “Little” isn’t really accurate. While she’s only 6 pounds and 7.8 ounces, she’s a fantastic 20 inches long. When she stretches those legs out, she’s magnificently long. Yeah, like me. Here’s her first public photo in the OR, just moments from the ejection. Looks mostly like my lovely wife. I hope she gets my height, my appetite, my immune system and my sense of humor. We’re off to a good start on the first one.
She’s got freaking huge hands, feet, fingers and toes. They tatted me up in the OR. Her feet are as long as my finger. That’s long.
After we got her out of the OR, we had to depart and leave mother behind in recovery. We moved over to the nursery where they allowed for one photographer and one daddy. I got to be the proud father. Hate that my lovely wife couldn’t make it, but we made due.
My lovely wife is doing fantastic. She’s walking around often. Feeding every three hours. Trying to stay cool. We had her back on solid food today after she successfully nailed back some sugary fluids without running into any nausea. She ate half a cold ham and cheese sandwich, a fruit cup (like they used to make in elementary…believe they’re sometimes called a “medley”…which is vomitus), mac and cheese, chocolate ice cream and a roll. Not really a runner’s diet, but it’s solid and that’s what we want.
Looks like we’ll be heading back on Sunday and will have two weeks of no/low impact living. No driving, no cooking, no lifting. Guess I’ll get my lovely wife to take care of it.
That’s a joke.
I get to be Mr. Mom. Good role for me. Speaking of, getting used to the diaper change. First ones were a little rough, but getting better. Girl’s got one kinda intestine on her. Things working well.
Still quite tired. Going to bed, er, going to couch.