Romy in the Homy

The Romy has landed! On Friday night Julie and I brought babygirl home with us. It was a sweet moment, but packed with fear. Cause the nurses in the Infant Special Care Unit were always there to do the bulk of work and to help calm our nerves. But once we hopped in the car for home, it was just the three of us.

Cue sleep deprivation. Pain.

We figured out how to manage the lack of sleep, just in the last couple of days. It's better. The first two days, I was so stressed, I literally felt like I was getting a constant punch in the gut.

But Romy is a beaut. Pride and Joy. Lots of chowing and lots of sleeping and lots of pooping and peeing. Sweet faces, squirmy arms and legs and clinched toes and fingers. Doc says she's especially strong. It's great.

Welcome home, Romy. The adventure begins.

What day is it?

I don't remember. Is it Sunday? I think yesterday was Sunday. Or Monday.

Gotta deadline end of month. Don't think it's yet end of month. Close. Too.

Hospital. Home. Hospital. Home. Hospital.

Missed a meal or two or three. Didn't notice. Missed some sleep.

My heart swelled. Sometimes it almost popped. When Julie sang to you for the first time. When that song came on the radio. Right now.

Your earlobe. Your chin, your fingernails.

What day is it, Romy? Romy?

Romy?

I love you.

Romy Bess Halpern-Cordell

Saturday November 1, 2008 at 3:55 am, Julie and I met face-to-face with our beautiful babe girl, Romy Bess Halpern-Cordell. This was 6 weeks earlier than anticipated.

Easily the most significant, most surreal, and most potent day of my life. I crumbled.

Romy is a "premee" but weighs in at a substantial 4 lbs, 15 oz. A full blown 17 inches in length. A beautiful head of fuzzed brown/blonde hair. And though she's got some work to do, she is on a straight path to rock and roll. Julie and I are so in love. Over the freaking moon.

To all the parents out there who've shown off endless pics of their babies, I get it. To all the parents who've told countless childbirth stories at countless dinner parties, I get it. To all the parents who've gone goo and goo and gah and gah to all too many baby faces, I get it.

I get it. I get it. I get it.