I'm feeling excited about this new adventure of blogging. Lately I've felt that with raising a newborn, planning a wedding, and dreaming up a get-rich idea so I never have to return to work, I have entirely too much time on my hands. (As evidenced by the fact it has taken me three days of interruptions to finish one post.) There are about four hours in any given day that are unaccounted for- though not consecutively. Surely they can be better spent jotting down run-on sentences and intermixing past and present tenses. Oh, and my sister won't stop harping me until I have a blog to call my own.
As is usually the case, my sisters encouragement to begin a blog already seems to be sound advice. For starters, I could stand to have a means of killing time while feeding a child who inherited her fathers ferocious appetite. Second, it could prove to be helpful to have a way of keeping track of our everyday musings. As it is, I can't recall what I wore yesterday. (Kidding, I never got out of my pajamas!) It is amazing how time has a way of clouding recent memories. Perhaps it is the sleep deprivation, or maybe it is a protective mechanism to ensure the existence of future generations. After all, this family would stop at three if everyday I was reminded of the horrors of all 9 minutes of my delivery.
As I sit down to recount the events of March 12, 2013, I am realizing that my recollection of that morning is morphing as the date becomes more distant. Today, as I picture the early morning I welcomed my slippery Sweet Pea into the world, I remember with fondness arriving to check in to labor and delivery after a leisurely car ride and an enjoyable elevator ride up to Kaiser's 2nd floor. In fact, I think I brought a freshly baked pie to the staff. If only I could remember- cherry or apple? Of course this was followed by my first exam by the physician who informed me that I was only one centimeter dilated. Oh rats. Good thing this pain is still quite manageable. Now would be a good time to walk through the maternity ward and admire the well appointed hospital furniture and the artwork that is surely from the 21st century. So glad my legs are shaved and not one hair on my perfectly coiffed 'do is out of place. This hospital really has a way of making me feel relaxed and excited about the prospect of meeting my child very soon. When is this supposed to be painful? ...
Wait, as Mark reads over my shoulder I am told this isn't exactly accurate. In fact, I may be full of shit! Apparently my behavior that morning was slightly less appealing. I fell somewhere on the spectrum of Ozzy Osborn, on stage, biting the head off a live bird and Linda Blair in The Exorcist- head spinning and all. I admittedly was not prepared for what a savage act delivering a baby could be. But now that I am well aware, I think when we are ready for baby #2, Mark will begin sedating me two weeks before my due date.
So now that I've shared my hope for this blog, I'm ready to get started with sharing our day to day experiences with you, my adoring audience. Until next time. (Next time being sometime next week or the week after, I'm sure.)
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