It finally happened: our son was born last Saturday, August 22nd! Here he is:
His name is Ciro Joseph: Ciro, after Greg’s paternal Grandfather, and Joseph, after my father. And yes, we are every cliche thing you probably are thinking a new parent would be: over-the-moon, sleep-deprived, in love, and operating in a total fog. It’s glorious and fun and a little freaky how, just like that, we now have a new family member.
Well, maybe not just like that. This labor and delivery was totally different than Penelope’s, and I’ll get into that in another post. But for now, I’m glad it’s over and that we are home with him.
My parents came to town for a few days to meet Ciro and help out, and while they were here they celebrated their 44th wedding anniversary.
For starters, neither one of them even realized it until I pointed it out to them a couple of days earlier, but then they apparently got their shit together because on the morning of their anniversary my dad walked in with a card and bouquet of flowers for my mom. That was nice, right?
Later that day we were sitting at the table and I said, “So tell me: what have you learned in 44 years of marriage?”
They both stared at me for a while.
MOM: It’s been forty-four years?
DAD (to my mom): “Speaking of that, did you open the card I got you?”
DAD: “What did it say, then?”
MOM: “I don’t remember.” (LAUGHTER)
DAD: “You didn’t read it yet.”
ME: “OK, come on! Focus. Forty-four years of marriage. What have you learned? What advice can you give?”
I had my recorder out and was eagerly awaiting major pearls of marital wisdom to come pouring out of their mouths, but instead I got more blank stares. Then, finally:
MOM: “The more space you give each other, the longer your marriage will last.”
DAD: “Yes. What she said.”
Then they both went back to checking their phones.
So, basically, we’re all doing just fine. Carry on.
One last bit of news from the labor: One thing I did was load up the camera and pack extra batteries. I asked Greg to PLEASE take lots of pics and videos throughout labor and delivery, because we didn’t do it last time and I wanted memories, dammit. A few days after we got home I reached for the camera. There was only one photo. This was it:
Me, mid-contraction, and possibly the worst picture ever taken of me during one of the most painful things I ever experienced in my life. YOU HAD ONE JOB TO DO, GREG. ONE. JOB.
(Joking aside, he was and is absolutely awesome throughout this whole thing and with both of our kids. I don’t say that enough here, but he is freaking fantastic. He just can’t be trusted with camera duty.)
So I guess the overall double-lesson here is this: give each other space, and know your partner’s strengths. And if it’s not photography, don’t trust them with a camera. OH! And always read the card.