Two of my best friends had a baby girl today. It was a cesarean birth, meaning they cut her open and yanked the little bastard out. Sort of like the movie 'Aliens', but scarier. Mother and baby girl Ava are doing very well.
It's their third child. I wonder if doctors are ever tempted to write little notes on the uterus wall for the next doctor. Sort of like uterus graffiti. Imagine the next doctor pulling a fetus out of the mother and seeing, “Dr. Rajah’s mother is a slut!” or “for a good time call Nurse Skankerton” or even “make sure this bitch gets plenty of morphine”. That would be awesome.
went to see the baby, because friends go see friends’ babies. Plus,
it’s not like I have a whole lot else going on. I assumed I had to
bring a gift. God only knew what. Beer somehow seemed inappropriate. So
did lingerie. So I stopped at a card shop on the way to the hospital to
pick up a card and a balloon. I got a blank card because I like to
write my own stuff. As for the balloon, I didn’t care what it looked
like as long as it was for a newborn girl.
“We have several shapes, colors, and styles,” said the lady at the counter. “What do you think she’d like?”
“I think this four-hour-old baby would absolutely love the shape, color, and style closest to your reach, thanks.”
a newborn is always tricky to me, because I basically think every baby
ever born looks exactly like every other baby ever born, yet I know I’ll
get asked the same question that parents always ask: "so does she look
like the father or the mother?" I'll want to reply, "If the mother or
father looked anything like THAT, they'd never have found a mate to have
a baby with in the first place". But, you know, I try to keep my
friends. So when I was inevitably asked the question I stood there,
staring at what basically looked like an overcooked ham*, and said,
“Wow, she really looks like both of you, and your other two kids.”
just so all of you don't think I'm a complete ass, I did instantly fall
in love with Ava, and look forward to being her "Uncle Joe" for years