Had I actually posted the posts I'd been composing in my head these last few weeks, you would have heard all about the glorious return of my feet to (almost) normal size two weeks ago. It was awesome, though I will probably never know if it was due to the change to cooler weather or some hormonal shift.
I also would have mentioned something about the awesome baby shower my work threw for me. I knew they were getting me a diaper bag and second car seat base, but when I sat down for lunch they brought out this whole pile of gifts. Apparently they felt the need to remedy the fact that the majority of the baby's clothes for the first few months are hand-me-downs from her male cousins. Or perhaps it was just the inescapable lure of tiny pink clothes.
On October 1st, I would have told you that I wound up going home from work about midday with regular, but not overly strong contractions. In the days following, you would have heard me become increasingly impatient for labor to really set in. I'd been resigned to a late baby up until that point in time, but apparently going past my due date instantly destroyed my patience. I'm still not sure how my mom survived the three extra weeks she had to wait for me to arrive.
Instead of all that, I'll simply tell you that I've got a daughter. She's been curled up on my chest while I've been writing this post.
Since she's arrived, it's been interesting to see how much interest we devote to the basics of existence. At this point in time, my dad would probably break out Maslow's hierarchy of needs, and point out that, with this new addition, we've been dropped down to the lowest level while we regain our feet. So, until everything is settled and routine, we'll be devoting extra mental resources to eating, excreting, and sleeping. On the upside, completing such tasks seems to come with a much greater reward than previously, so I don't mind at all.