Jack at 3 weeks old

MY CHILDBIRTH EXPERIENCE-
HI All, Hope this finds you doing well!Baby Jack is three weeks old today! So sorry I haven’t emailed to say HI. I'm trying tocatch up on sleep and my emails. Even though he’s only three weeks old, I guess Iqualify for officially being called a parent now.Scary to many of you, I know.It’s very strange to sit in the living room withTravis and Scout and look over and see a baby lying there. I’m also still adjusting to the night time feedings but I already love sitting in our new glider feeding him and staring at his beautiful eyes and perfect face and wonder what kind of talents he holds in that little head of his. I love hearing his sighs and coos and his steady breathing while he’s asleep. I will spare the gory details of childbirth for the faint of heart but suffice it to say, I thank God during my prayers for a healthy delivery, the doctors,nurses and lots and lots of medication.
The labor anddelivery came on fairly quickly which is normal when being induced. I had in fact, sent Travis out to eat breakfast Friday morning since the nurse said labor would probably take all day. Jack however was bornwithin the hour. Aside from some me conium, he was very healthy and pink and beautiful. Well to me atleast, he was beautiful.
And, as usual, I cannot seem to go through anypart of this process without tears. So here is mystory that once again, led me to bawl like the namby-pamby weakling I am :

Discharge Day:
I brush my hair for the first time in two days. I quickly discover the clothes I’d packed to go home in are far too tight. So I do what any other normal person would do to remedy the situation-I sit down and cry.
“What did you expect?” Travis says, “You just gavebirth two days ago.”
“That’s the point,” I wail. “I’m not pregnant any more! Why am I still huge?”
“You’re not huge. You’re beautiful.” He says.
What a sweet husband. Or maybe he says this out of guilt because he knows his nipples will never be as sore as mine are at this minute. We dress baby Jack in his brand-new onesie, the kind with no collar since my friend Heather had forewarned me not to dress them in anything with a collar since“babies have no necks,” she explained.
Hospital policy mandates all patients being released from the hospitalbe escorted to the exit in a wheelchair. The hospital technician finally arrives and though I’d previously been anxious to get home and start our new life withour new baby, I suddenly decide I don’t want to leave my hospital room, my own personal “womb” where people bring you your food and happy medications and answer your silly questions about the color of your baby’s poop and how much to feed. But most importantly, they make sure you keep the baby alive on their watch.
Against my better judgment, I take a seat for my ride,Jack in arms. The Tech rolls us to the end of the hallway where we wait for the elevator to the first floor. As the door opens, I think I hear the theme from 2001: A SpaceOdyssey playing and smoke spilling from the metal doors as they part. As the elevator descends it seems as if I’m traveling through my own birth canal (except I’m sharing it with four other people also going to the first floor). The door opens and I’m wheeled out but not as a baby, as a parent.
I consider turning to the technician, handing Jack to her and saying, “No thank you. He’s very lovely but I can’t handle this kind of responsibility. I don’t think you all are aware you’rereleasing me into the ‘wild’ with no prior parenting experience whatsoever.”
Alas, technicians don’t specialize in baby refunds so I keep silent. She wheels me through the lobby and all the bystanders inthe waiting room ohh and ahh at this adorable face. I think I see confetti and balloons dropping from the ceiling, thunderous applause in the background andcrowds chanting behind me, “Go, Angela, Go Jack!” Andof course, I start to cry. Some are tears of fear, andhormones but mostly of joy, thankfulness and theemotion I’ve discovered of love.
The technician looks around uneasily and finallyasks, “Um, are you ok?”
“I’m ok,” I stammer. “It’s just something I do.”An elderly Hispanic lady hobbles by being escorted by a younger woman. “Dios te bendiga” The elderly lady calls to me as she passes by.
“She said ‘God BlessYou,” the other woman translates.
“Gracias, Muchas Gracias!” I call back to her through my tears. I hold Jack tightly as we sit under the overhang waiting for Travis to come around with the car. I whisper in his ear, “Ok, Kid, it’s just you and me. We can do this. I love you.”