Have Mercy.

Kate and Winter came home from the hospital yesterday, and what a crazy week it’s been. Every day feels like the first day in a new job at a new workplace. You’re not quite sure where you fit, or exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. I feel like a child carrying a overly full cup of tea across the room to Grandma. My eyes are fixed intently on the cup, my double-handed grip is tight, and every step is slow and deliberate. I know I’ll loosen up in time and that it won’t be long before I can deliver the cup with a reverse three-and-a-half somersault in pike position, but I ain’t there yet.

We were so impressed with the Mercy, both the hospital and the staff, and while Kate’s glad to be home, I don’t think she would have minded staying a while longer than she did. She thought she could get used to ticking a series of boxes and having every meal delivered right to her in bed! Yes, I’ll bet. The only two things I could complain about were the midwife who told Kate not to cry when unable to breastfeed successfully because it’d make her milk dry up, and also the broken clock in Kate’s room that was stuck at 6:30. I couldn't find where the batteries were supposed to go.


At least it was right twice a day, I guess.