Nine pounds, eight ounces.
I walk like a cowgirl now,
happy, sore and proud.
So we had another good do. She's a keeper alright. You want to keep one who takes that much effort to expel, and who changes the exit gate the way she did. Seriously.
Don't have a pet name for her yet- we call her little stink, chuckles, toots-sicle and various other spur of the moment monikers. I'm sure things will settle soon. By the time we pick a name maybe I'll have posted her birth story, a blurb about breastfeeding, a blurb about having three kids, and more. Or not. There's a lot to do and this time around I'm going to work very hard not to feel guilty about how long it takes me to get things done.
TTFN,
ephelba
2 comments:
Oh, I'm so glad you posted a picture! I was wondering how it all went. She's darling...and huge...you poor thing! I've been reading your blog for years (since diary land days). I was looking for an old friend who lived in Ypsi and came across your diary then. I was drawn in by your boy stories. He's so much like my boy! Then you had another, me too. And another, me too! You're a wonderful writer. You give me something to relate to and I so appreciate that. It's nice to know I'm not the only one going through these things in this crazy world. Enjoy your little one!
Dude! Glad you've delurked:) Thanks for the compliments, warm fussies are always appreciated...
Am feeling scared about how things will go when Simon goes back to work, but I keep running into other mothers of three (like yourself) who've not only survived but can manage complete sentences and it encourages me...
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