We're busy.

Doing a whole lot of this:

So you can see why it's taken so long for me to post. The days look a lot like these pictures and I find it incredibly hard to put Sam down for more than the time it takes me to pee or make a sandwich. (BTW, that is my husband's bare chest in the photo, not mine. I wax more frequently than he does...)

I have so many things I want to get off my chest about the labor and delivery. About how I fell in love with my husband all over again in new ways I never could have imagined while I squeezed the crap out of his hands and fingers and never once said, "you did this to me," like he predicted I would.

I want to remember the minutes (hours?) I lost in a blur of paranoid mania after I decided to try a little Stadol to ease my nerves while the contractions barely moved me from two centimeters to seven. Quite painfully, might I add.

I'm sure I'll have time to recall in detail the look on Jed's face when he first laid eyes on his first son and cried and tried to capture what moments he could with our little Nikon digicam without getting tears in the viewfinder. I was proud of him. I was proud for him.

And how tired I was after the tornado of nurses and doctors finally left us alone. The three of us. And how happy I was. I don't know how to find the letters in the alphabet and put them together into words that would make what we did together and what came of it- our perfect little boy- that would actually be a true representation of the day. Of the moments Jed and I looked at each other and at Sam and were speechless. Because I don't think there are words for that. Speechless.

I do, however, have some notes on the aftermath. The way it hurts your butt to cough for nearly a week after. And how it's absolutely necessary for you to wear a pad the size of a diaper in your underwear for just as long to catch the bloodbath. JG actually looked in the plastic baggie left for me in the bathroom at the hospital and said, "There's no pad things in here, Steph. Just diapers." If you'd like to know, shove your local phone book in your underwear and walk around for a day. It's practically the same feeling.

Well. I thought I wouldn't have the time to write anything. So I sort of hodge-podged it up a bit. The prince stirs and the princess is drooling over our homemade pizza with green olives and tomatoes on top. (mm.)

I miss this feeling of fingers on keys. I'm sure I'll get better at balancing my new duties as a mom of two soon enough and will be able to post more.

Until then.
Thanks for coming back.