We were at the hospital when she was born just after midnight on May 28. We held her when she was minutes old.
We returned that night to the hospital, and admired her for two hours.
Her parents brought her home yesterday. They called just to tell us they were home....that she was home. They called us three hours later to ask if it was OK that she had hiccups. They called a third time to ask if I could please go with my son to take her to the hospital for a routine blood test. His wife is too sore to descend stairs.
We picked my son and his new daughter up today at their apartment for her first official outing into the world. She was dressed to the nines, and covered with two blankets on this warm day. I sat in the backseat and played with her.
After an hour wrangling with insurance forms and papers, the three of us walked a labrynth of hospital halls to the lab. She protested the blood samples with a healthy, delicate cry. I changed her diaper under the nervous eye of my son.
He carefully laid her in her car set, adjusted her sweet bonnet and matching booties, dutifully covered her with the sherbet-hued crocheted blankets, and we left.
On the way back to the apartment, we heard about their lack of sleep, their piled-up dirty laundry, their empty refrigerator, the in-laws who hang around too long. He refused my offer of help, except for my trademark casseroles. He loves my cooking; his wife is just learning.
We dropped them off with a kiss and hug, and a new super-sized package of disposable diapers.
We drove off in silence. Blessed, organized silence. To our home where the laundry is done, the refrig is full and everyone sleeps through the night.
We looked at each other.....Isn't it great to drive away?