Friday, April 13, 2007

Maybe I'm OK With Being Done Having Babies

Just a few days ago, some dear friends a town or two over--friends with whom we go back eight years, when we were all living a close-to-the-bone graduate-student lifestyle together in Chicago, running around going to movies and eating five-dollar bowls of Thai noodles on the weekends--had their first baby. A year ago, when some other dear friends of ours had their first baby, they were the first of our close, nearby friends to do so, and we were thrilled about--but not used to--finally having friends with babies, like us. I wrote a little bit then about how monumental it was, how emotional and joy-filled, to be joined in parenthood by friends we love so dearly. Now, it's old hat, this business of people around us having babies--but that doesn't mean we're any less thrilled about the arrival of each newborn.

What I was reminded of, this week, as I thought of our friends navigating these first few days of newborn life (whew! yikes.), was an incident that occurred when Julia was born--and it still makes me laugh out loud to think of it. As some of you know, she was a killer; my labor with her stretched for four days and three nights--nights with no sleep, mind you--and ended with a lot of trauma. By the time we came home from the hospital, Christopher and I were pretty much non-functional zombies.

Christopher was in charge of calling the pediatrician to set up Julia's one-week doctor visit. I heard him on the phone answering the basic demographic questions required to schedule the appointment, and people, he was so sleep-deprived that he GOT HER NAME AND BIRTHDATE WRONG. Seriously.

Christopher: Her name is Charlotte. Uh-huh. (pause) Actually, you know what? Her name's not Charlotte. It's actually Julia. Birthdate? 6/6. (pause.) Um, wait. 6/4. I mean 6/3.

I still remember laughing hysterically, and with much disbelief, from the other room, and yelling out, "Julia! It's JULIA!" and "Not June 4th, June THIRD. THIRD! JUNE THIRD!"

Oh, good times, people, good times. To our friends: congratulations. We love you. Try to get some sleep.

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