Thursday, November 15, 2012

Home Sweet Home

October 8th, 2012- Happy Birthday to ME!  And home we go.

They circumcised Liam on the day we were discharged.  I was very nervous about this.  Because for some reason I just pictured them handing me this little screaming person with a little bloody diaper and I wouldn't be able to calm him and he'd be in so much pain...  But none of that happened.  When he came back to us, he was asleep and bathed swaddled and just as content as could be.  I was instructed to put gauze with Vaseline on his little peep every time we changed him, so as not to stick to the diaper.  And that's what we did and it wasn't hard at all.

Andy made three trips to the car to bring out all we had accumulated on our visit.  It was summer when we went in, I swear it.  But it was brisk and autumn when we were released.  Andy pulled the car to the curb and the attendant wheeled me out with Liam on my lap in the carrier.  (Turns out, I'm not allowed to lift the baby AND the carrier).

The little 0-3 month size jacket I had bought and packed with care was WAY too big on him.  We ended up stopping at Carters on the way home and buying him two little newborn jackets, because he was just so small!  (Take THAT, all the naysayers who were saying I was going to birth a small toddler.  Whatever.)

We realized about two minutes from the hospital that we were suddenly famished.  I suggested Red Robin.  "What do we do with the baby?"  Andy inquired.  "Well, I'm imagining we take him in with us."  I replied.

To see us entering Red Robin, you may have thought we were smuggling small explosive devices in the restaurant.  Andy parked away from the other cars.  We covered the carrier with a large, heavy blanket.  I walked ahead of Andy, eyes attuned to every passing car- every shifty eye- every well meaning old lady who may dare to ask, "How old is your baby?"  To which I would have answered, "What baby?  This is a small explosive device." 

We were seated immediately and we ordered when the waitress first came to our table.  Andy kept the baby carrier on his side of the booth- good call.  He was bigger in case anyone tried to abduct our son right in front of us.  We both sat at the table looking like deer in headlights.  Our hospital bands were displayed proudly on our wrists- medals of honor.  We checked under the blanket every 35 seconds.  Was he breathing?  Touch him to make sure.  Was he cold?  Touch him to make sure.  Perhaps too hot?  Better touch him.  Did his left eye just open?  Maybe if you would just touch him...

The food came.  We inhaled it.  Andy was still grabbing extra fries as he was running back out the door, carrier in hand.  He pitched me his wallet.  "Okay, We're out of here.  Pay the bill and I'll meet you in the car."  He held the carrier and ran for the door.  It was practically a hostage situation.  People were staring.  I think a few people already had the 9 and first 1 typed in on their iPhones, ready to press the second 1 and report a suspicious situation at the Hershey Red Robin.

The poor waitress.  I explained to her the situation and tipped her well.  She probably thought something was really the matter, and that's the truth. 

Turns out, every idiot driver was on the road that day, according to my husband.  They were all out, and they were all driving erratically and they were ALL out to get us.  We, on the other hand, were model citizens.  We stopped at every red light.  Every stop sign was followed, stopping BEHIND the white line.  Looking both ways.  We proceeded with caution.  10 and 2 on the wheel.  Speed limits were not suggestions- they were the law.  When we finally got home, I felt like we had just traveled from Africa.  I was THAT exhausted from the trip.

We scrambled in the house and closed the door behind us.  Home Sweet Home.