I have a new baby boy who is as handsome as a new baby can be. Unlike my last delivery, this one was not nearly as traumatic. My husband tells me I yelled the same things during the contractions.
This is not fun.
I don’t like this.
I really don’t like this.
I’ve had enough.
Of course, last time I remember pleading for more epidural, a cesarean, anything to stop the excruciating pain.
My water broke in the morning but that was not enough to deter my husband from going for a jog and leaving his cell phone at home.
I confess that I was a little surprised it was a boy. My sister spent several therapy sessions discussing her concern about having a son, I’ve only had a few days to consider it. So far, so great. My son is just a perfect little angel and my daughter has surprised me with her tenderness towards him. So, no complaints in that regard.
Of course, I cannot help but feel this gigantic void that my mom has left.