A new addition to the family was, well, added to the family Thursday morning as my brother and his wife unleashed the next wave of our DNA upon the world.
God help the rest of you.
After two weeks of "Yes, we will" or "No, we won't"...the docs finally scheduled a C-section for Thursday morning. When John and Kelli arrived at the hospital, the doc was almost going to cancel because he thought Kelli would be fine to go another week, to which Kelli told him that he was taking the baby out that morning, or suffer the wrath of my brother, who's nerves were stretched thin as it was.
Mom wanted to be there for the grand entrance, so she announced that she would be waking up at 5am. I told her that I would just go to the hospital later that morning. I was told that I would be going with her that morning.
So, for the second day in a row, I had to wake up before 9am...still no fire in sight. Mom said she overslept, so she flooded my bedroom with bright light at 5:45am. Showered, dressed, left. Stopped by Starbucks for an eye-opener, went on our merry way up north. We arrived the hospital where I immediately proceed to spill warm coffee all over my shirt. I was so pissed, I wanted to throw my cup across the parking lot. Mom reminded me that would be a waste of perfectly good Starbucks, and surely there was a law somewhere about that. Stewing, I went into the hospital with a coffee stained shirt.
We found the maternity section on the opposite end of the hospital, carting a shit ton of baby things like two pack mules. We stopped by the nursery where my brother was hovering over a warmer, and this small, wriggling red thing was inside. Johnny was crying. Mom got all teary. We stood there and took some pics, were directed to the room where Kelli would be staying and unloaded the baby stuff, then went to recovery where Kelli was hanging out post-op. Her brother's girlfriend was there, and she was an odd sort. Not to mention very, very large, and had a face that looked as though she had been beaten with a bag of hot quarters.
Why is it that girls like her have boyfriends, and the best I can do is go on outings?
The nurses cleaned Daylynne, and brought her out. Small little thing, she was. Like trained circus seals, everyone pulled out there cameras and just started snapping away. I noticed later that in most every picture where her hand is visible, she appears to be flipping off the camera.
Yup, definitely a part of our clan.
We spent a better part of the day passing the baby around, cooing at it. She was in her unreactive phase, so she just slept through everything.
Kelli's nurse was a guy, and he was awesome. There was another nurse who was helping him out while he was in a delivery next door. She sucked. Her name was Doris, but I called her Pug. She looked like one, and she was a rude, hateful bitch. As she was leaving the room, Johnny asked me if I was her equal, in terms of nursing. I loudly replied, "Yes I am". Pug turned and glared at me before she left the room. Whatever. Someone that hateful has no place working on a Maternity floor.
On the way home, Mom and I gave Daylynne her own nickname as children in our family always get nicknames. Mine was Half-Pint. We decided her nickname would be Peanut...because was so tiny like a peanut. Now, in conversation, we refer to her as Peanut.
So, now I am an Auntie, and I am told it is almost as fun as being a Grandparent. I get to spoil the kid, then send them back home to Mom and Dad.
I can't wait until she is old enough to have a drum set.