David's Blague

Our world was turned over again yesterday. I have stopped keeping track of whether that makes it right-side-up or up-side-down now, but whichever way it is, it feels right. Our oldest daughter named the baby Happy Wednesday some months back. It won't be on her birth certificate, but it's what her brother and sister are still calling her, and I'm guessing it's a nick that will stick, at least for a while.

Anyone looking for the bare statistics:

• born at 6:22 PM on Sunday, August 30
• 9 pounds, 12 ounces, 21 inches
• born in Severna Park, MD

That last point bears reflecting on. Our third child was born at the home of my in-laws. It was another long-ish labor, but it was labor at the family home where we were married, where my wife's grandmother died, where we buried our dog Casey earlier this year, where my wife visited her grandparents when she was the size of our kids. We are living with the in-laws while we get the farm ready.

And yes, we bought a farm and had our third child the same week.

Back to the home birth. Happy Wednesday's mama was amazing. She was already my hero, and just when I didn't think it was possible for her to go up in my esteem, she did. I love you, darlin'. The midwife and the doula were amazing. Grammy was there when the baby was born, too, and she cried, which almost made me cry. It was beautiful. Baba and the two kids were in the next room, and two of the three of them were dancing around, singing.

I wrote down some more stuff about the birth itself. We're supposed to go talk to a childbirth class week after next, and we'll probably write down more of a birth story some time between now and then. In the meantime, I'll be getting spit up on, woken up all hours, and running after three (three!) small children. The way the world should be.