So two days ago, my daughter called and her water had just broke. He’s weeks early – just a few – but still it meant scrambling to find last-minute airfare and hotel and reconfigure my schedule … all that jazz. I got on a plane to Colorado less than 24 hours later and landed to enjoy a sky like this.
It was gorgeous and this time, I choked up a little but held the tears back. I’m getting better at this … it still feels like home when I land, but it feels like home when I land in Santa Barbara too so it’s weird.
I drove directly to the hospital and got to see my girl. She was tired and pale and swollen and bruised but perky and happy, which makes sense because the hard part was finally over. Owen arrived in the middle of the afternoon on the 19th and was rushed to the NICU where he stays. She didn’t get to see him for the first day – a little, but not much – because she couldn’t stand up and the NICU tables are higher than she could reach. She could see him a little but he’s wrapped in all kinds of medical equipment pumping oxygen into him and watching his heart and feeding him.
This is what he looks like when they unwrapped him to change his diaper. By the way – he does not like it when he’s unwrapped or fiddled, not one bit. He cries, squirms, and turns beet-red!
Yep, he’s got a full head of hair and he’s 9.6 pounds – big baby boy.
Today, Rebecca got to hold him for the first time.
As anyone who’d had a child knows there is nothing so fascinating as a little person you just created. She said she’s never been so fascinated with anything in her life. She spent hours just holding him as people came and visited and went. It was just what she and baby Owen needed. He knows his parents’ voices too, he turns toward them and reaches his hand in their direction, arches toward them, everything you’d expect and hope for.
The aren’t completely recovered – neither of them – but they are on their way.