My new baby has arrived ... fast, ferocious and wild
THEY say writing things down is a good way to make them real. Seems like that worked pretty well for me last week.
As last Friday's paper was making its way to our local newsagents, I was making my way to the hospital.
And by the time you could read about me having had enough of being pregnant, I was holding a beautiful baby girl in my arms.
Yep, we made it to hospital. Just.
I contemplated not telling Modern Dad that my water had broken so he could get a bit more sleep, but then the functioning part of my brain woke up and realised he'd probably prefer a bit less sleep to catching a baby in the car at 3am.
One of the downsides of not having family living close by is not having someone you know you can call in the wee small hours and they have to answer the phone because they're related to you.
Having had all my other babies at sensible hours of the day, I had been fairly sure that it wouldn't really be an issue, but had a few fantastic friends on stand-by.
Of course, this baby has always been determined to prove me wrong at every turn, and decided to do the midnight arrival.
In the rain.
We rang our awesome friends who jumped straight in the car to come and pick up Thing 2 and Thing 3.
And of course, there was a massive accident between their place and ours and we had to talk them through how to get here. But get here they did and we were off.
I wasn't entirely convinced I wasn't going to have the baby between the car and the entrance of the hospital.
But I made it through the doors, into a check-up room and finally to the labour ward.
I was asked if it was okay for a medical student to come in and observe my birth.
I believe my exact words were "the more the merrier", so clearly I was on my way to hormone induced insanity.
And then she was here.
Fast and ferocious and wild, this tiny, black-haired pixie of a baby with her brother's eyes and her sister's mouth was here.
She had a rough couple of days, with a suspected bacterial infection and a bit of jaundice, so our hospital stay was extended, which was an experience.
I am used to going home pretty much straight from the labour ward, so I had a serious case of cabin fever that couldn't even be cured by games of "guess what food this is supposed to be" that's known as a hospital meal.
But on day three, we got the all clear and were able to bring our hilariously serious, funny-faced, absolutely sensational tiny girl home.
We've not done much other than sit and stare at her, really, she has us all completely smitten.
Harper Mae, welcome to the madhouse.
We're so glad you're here.
Remember what I've forgotten
THERE'S a lot of things you forget about having a newborn.
Obviously, you need to forget to go back for another bite of the cherry, otherwise there'd be a lot more single-child families in the world.
But I'd forgotten how long it takes to get organised to go anywhere, how completely vague I become, and how I lose the ability to peel a potato. It's a bad day when you have to stop and think about how to peel a spud.
I'd forgotten how uncanny a newborn baby's timing could be.
After a nutso few days, the night we came home we were all sitting down to have something to eat together for the first time.
And as I put fork to mouth, she squawked. I'd forgotten my husband and I would eat in shifts for the next six months.
I'd forgotten how far a baby could projectile vomit.
I'd forgotten to be organised before a nappy change.
And I'd forgotten just how quickly I completely and utterly fall in love, which makes everything else I'd forgotten seem pretty insignificant, really.