recovery

I have so much to do, and instead moon about looking at pictures of Prince Handsome. Look at those chubby arms, that sensitive face. No question, the chemicals of love have overtaken my body.  I have a big, big crush.

Mama slept across the hall from the incubator room and got up every two hours in the night to nurse; nursing is going well, baby is thriving. It's too bad, they were probably overly solicitous about this baby, which means he is still attached to various monitors. She hopes he'll be released from them today and can sleep tonight in her room across the hall, and then after various tests will go home with her tomorrow. She says she sits for hours holding him, and then goes back to her room and lies in bed looking at pictures of him on her phone. Some serious chemicals at work there.

Genetics - thinking of how she is like her great-great grandmother Anna Gordin, a motherly woman who loved cooking and babies, just like my daughter. I've always wondered where that came from, because she didn't get it from me. Now we know - from Russia, circa 1859. Anna Gordin started her big family at the age of 14, though; my Anna will not try to catch up.

But in the photos of her in bed the morning of her delivery, she looks exactly like my father. His serious strong face, sitting in bed in pigtails, texting and reading Harry Potter. And in her earthy humour and honesty, love of the good things in life, especially food, her stubbornness and powerful personality, she is just like him. You're here, my father. We miss you.

Okay, woman, get a move on, for God's sake. Get your life back on track. Just live with the fact that you've a huge new love, and on you go.

But first, I have to get some pictures developed and send them special delivery to various relatives. Especially great-grandma in hospital in Ottawa, aching to see our brand new boy.