Monday, 13 January 2014

IT'S A GIRL! (WHICH IS GOOD, CUZ BOYS CONFUSE ME)

MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER AND HER BEAUTIFUL NEWBORN DAUGHTER  
Which, when you factor me into the equation, equals three generations of gobsmacking beauty. Sometimes God really freakin' blows me away with his awesomeness.

There won't be too many occasions when you'll find sweet sentimental thoughts here on Whorrified. In fact, unless I get that lobotomy the community at large has been agitating for, this will probably be the ONLY time you'll find sweet sentimental thoughts here on Whorrified. (Oh wait. There was that one other time ...) 

But as many of you who have been following this blog for reasons that hint at a lack of a moral compass already know, my beloved daughter has had a baby inside of her for a little over 8 months. And at around the 8.5 month mark, the unborn child who will one day be tasked with babysitting her senile grandmother decided "Enough of this 'amniotic fluid' nonsense, I think it's time I had a proper meal of steak or colostrum or something." And so she decided to move directly to the Hard Labour phase of this little game nature plays on almost anyone with a uterus. 

Which was very thoughtful of her because I happened to be in town that weekend anyway, so it's almost like she did it for me. The little darling. If I weren't already head over heels in love with her, that would have sealed it.

YOU'D NEVER GUESS TO LOOK AT ME 
that I just had a grandchild two days ago! 
(I let the mom do the work, that's my secret.)


And so this is how we spent our Sunday: watching the euphorically grim bloodsport, the cruel trick of nature, that is childbirth. 

It is no easy feat to witness your own flesh and blood wailing as if she is being ripped asunder, but, assisted by the one of the sweetest husbands and one of the best big sisters ever, my baby girl soldiered through the mind-bending horror with such stoicism I wondered whose genes she was tapping into... they sure as hell weren't mine ... and in the end, a miracle emerged: a 5 pound, 2-ounce gem, a raven-haired, doe-eyed baby girl. My eyes well up at the very thought of it.

As for the seconds-after photo, I have to say I struggled a bit in the weighing of my precious child's privacy against my faithful readers' interest in the outcome of a pregnancy I've nattered on about at some length, and I decided you deserve to see this moment. 

Thank you for following my child's journey, and please join me in welcoming a child who, if her parents are any indication, will be nothing but a blessing to this planet. Welcome, my beautiful granddaughter. I can't wait till you are old enough to share this celebratory bottle of Mo√ęt with me. Fifteen, right? I think 15 would be good ...