TMI Thursday: Bringing Home Baby, Murphy's Making Memories

my little polka-dot-peanut

For first time parents, bringing home a little bundle of joy from the hospital is a big milestone. I'm sure that every parent can recall this emotional event -- the fear you felt getting behind the wheel. Is the car seat installed correctly? Is her head tilted too far to the left? Maybe we should turn up the heat a little more!

Yes, this beautiful moment is marked with just a bit of anxiety, isn't it?

When we brought Stella home on Thursday, December 16th, we were feeling like every other new parent: scared out of our wits! We had some bonus stress: Louisville was covered in a blanket of sparkling ice. The sleet and freezing rain had come as expected Wednesday night, and cars and trees and ground were all coated in a crystal glaze.

Schools and businesses were closed -- even the bank where I work (when I'm not busy bringing new life into the world) was on a two hour delay.

We didn't leave the hospital until late afternoon, and after a quick stop at Walgreens for my 8-hour Motrin and brain-freeze-Percocet, we pulled into our driveway around 4:30.

Note: Hubs had slept at home the night before to a) try to prevent our dog from freaking out completely and b) to wake up and shovel karate chop the expected ice off the driveway. (I was slightly nervous that he wouldn't be able to get back to the hospital to get me.)

Anyway, so... there we were: home sweet home. Almost. I told hubs I would sit in the car while he went and unlocked our front door and then came back to get the baby. Hubs got out and went up to the mailbox. I waited a minute, then looked back to see that he was literally reviewing each piece of mail as if to look for terroristic threats or something.

I knocked on the window to get his attention. Stella was starting to stir and it was past time to feed her. I gave him the "hurry the hell up" face and did that "get over here" motion with my hand. Hubs got all pissy and slammed the mailbox shut, but he came around to get the baby.

"Sorry, it's just that she's getting hungry..."

Hubs carried Stella to the front door and I grabbed a few things -- the diaper bag, my drugs -- and tried to ease my broken self out of the backseat. Hubs couldn't come back and help me because Stella had never met our dog... we weren't trying to leave them alone together just yet... so I was left on my own to negotiate the icy driveway and grass. Since I was a) exhausted b) on drugs and c) walking about as fast as a grandma... I decided that I didn't want to risk slipping and falling down on our sloped driveway.

I dug one foot after the other and trudged slllloooowwwllly through the ice-grass.

Inside, hubs was at the living room window getting frustrated at my slow pace... since I had just yelled at him for taking alldamnday at the mailbox.

"She's hungry!!!" (And I use three exclamation points because he really spewed those words at me.)

Of course, I BURST into tears.

"Do you think I want it to take me five minutes to get inside the house?! Don't you know it's hard for me to even walk?! I know you can't come help me because you have to stay with her, but I AM TRYING TO GET IN THERE! I'm afraid I'll fall! Jesus Christ!"

I. was. sobbing when I walked across the threshold and made that transition from hospital-patient-playing-the-role-of-mommy into real, true motherhood.

And that is the story of the day we brought home our Stella Claire, who did not starve... and who also did not see anything all that interesting in the day's mail pile.