Jealousy is a dangerous thing. After reading about OvaGirl's impending delivery of her little boy, someone inside me stirred. Not content to wait until 15 August, she of the chunky labia decided that labour waited for no baby. My uterus was no longer accommodating enough, prompting her to think, "Well, fuck that, I'm blowing this joint*" in the early morning hours of Wednesday, 19 July, exactly one week short of my 28th birthday.
Piper made it to a whole 36w1d of gestation, contrary to the 35 weeks mentioned on the blogs of a couple of dear friends. I have only just been released with her from the hospital today, thanks to a nasty case of jaundice, breastfeeding conundromes, and a heart murmur. I plan on recounting my labour and delivery story, as well as my prolonged hospital stay tale shortly, but at the moment I'm just glad to be home with the baby I never thought I'd have.
Here is a picture of my badass, stubborn daughter at two days old. Pardon the incubator and blue tinted photo, but it was taken whilst she was undergoing phototherapy. Additionally, please ignore the bulldog face. What can I say...my birth canal was a rough old place and the poor kid just barely made it out with a nose. This is what she thinks of the situation:
Now that is punk. Cool sunglasses and the old two-fingered "V" (British equivalent to the finger) for all the haters out there. This girl is hardcore already. How could I not be in love?
*C'mon now...you surely must rely on me for giving a fetus a foul mouth. If I'm not going to do it, who is?