Baby talk

At 46, you’d think the baby talk would be over for me. But no, it’s clutching at my heartstrings again.

I don’t want another one. Please let me not introduce that additional terror into my life. Knowing my luck it would probably be twins as my shrivelled ovaries gave it one last shot.

But things are going to get a little retro at HouseGoesHome this week, as I sift through junk and memories in the attic. (It also helps me keep the blog running, as I have a VERY active social life for a change. Woo-hoo! Bring. It. On.)

The latest gem I’ve uncovered is the email Husband sent out when the youngest was born (ah, remember those funny old days before Facebook?)

(Pic from The Elephant In The Room … and the one in my pants)

Despite all that’s happened between us, I must admit he has a lovely way with the written word:

Ava was born at 5pm this afternoon (March 22), after at least two weeks of constantly thinking she would come out at any moment (anyone who saw Alana’s belly recently would know what I am talking about.).

After a brief squall on arrival she promptly went back to sleep for about five hours, making us wonder whether she had been in any hurry at all.

She’s big for a girl (4.1kg) and, after her extended nap, showed signs of a matching appetite. Alana and I are both thrilled to have her along, although a caesarean is a big emotional and physical rollercoaster that Alana has had to ride.

Neverthless both baby and mum are doing well. Her sister, now two and a bit, is also coming to terms with Ava. The appeal of the sibling seemed to catch on at the hospital this evening when she realised she had bragging rights with her cousin. (“James, this is my new sister, Ava.”)

I showed Husband the email on Sunday and we marvelled over the fact neither of us have any recollection of that five-hour sleep. It’s funny what your brain sorts and edits.

PS This pic above accompanied the email, and upon reflection and contemplation of the scary medical instruments shown, was probably a little too much information. And yet, I’m sharing it again … of course … queen of TMI that I am …

Song of the day: Promises “Baby it’s you”