A whole day in this cold hard world has passed, what with having to eat and breathe all on our own. Life is so totally unfair and I'm sure she'll take it out on us when she's a teenager. For now, we're pretty happy content to be held and rocked and talked to, and sometime, we even take a moment to look around and check things out.
Brooklynn had 8 visitors stop by yesterday (9 if you count the one month old baby who was smaller than her), and slept through all of them. We confirmed she could hear and then the mean nurse tried to pull her ears off with the sticky cups used in the test.
She has a set of lungs on her and she will squirm away from Rhiannon in the bed pushing off with her legs and arms. And the feet, with the toes! Those came from Grandpa on mom's side if we can figure anything out.
The small black thing on her leg is the hospital's "Baby Lo-Jack" which alarms if you carry her too close to an exit, prevents the elevator doors from closing with her inside, and will bring nurses running if it evens falls off in the room.
Feeding is starting to come around and she isn't too fussy. About the worst part of her day is when I take her away from mom after eating when she doesn't have and clothes on. For some reason, my hands and fingers have been just one temperature level above death incarnate for most of our stay, and hear about the injustice of putting ice cubes on her back until I can get her wrapped back up again. And once she's swaddled, life is good.
So today, we go home. And I'm a little terrified and a lot excited. Between Rhiannon and myself, I think we'll do ok. Well, I think we'll do more than ok, but I don't want to be cocky. Just when everything is going great, I think babies have a way of knocking everyone down a few notches.