Day 12

My room feels like Grand Central Station. Friends and family have come to visit the baby. They have come ‘en masse’. Are they all really allowed in the room or did they stampede the nursing station? Well they are here: talking, laughing and gesticulating. Each one of them has something to say.

“He looks just like his daddy.” 

“No! No, he looks just like his grandpa.”

“He’s so small!!”

“Can I hold him?”

“No! You are too young. You’ll drop him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Look at his tiny hands! Can we see his feet too?”

“Babies are supposed to be bald. He has a lot of hair.”

“He is so cute!”

Marc is snugly sleeping in Sam’s arms who is in the center of this admiring circle and proudly accepting the homage. I am feeling quite forgotten: I feel fine too, thank you for asking.

The chatter around me is incessant. The noise and bustle gives me comfort. I am too tired to interact. Questions are being asked and answered. There is laughter and happiness. Someone is taking pictures. All is a blur. My mood is uplifted; as if I have performed the Don Quixote ‘pas de deux’ to a standing ovation and am now savoring the applause, too tired to even breathe but feeling ecstatic.


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