So here we sit in the waiting room at the hospital, doing what waiting rooms are made for: waiting. Waiting waiting waiting. And waiting some more. I keep going into Airport Mode, burying my nose in my Kindle and trying to follow the words down the page, but I keep getting lost. How can I read a book--even a really good book--when my daughter is just down the hall in labor?!
She's fine, really. Fine fine fine. Things are progressing nicely, and that's about all I'm sharing in the way of gory details. My son-in-law comes out periodically to deliver progress reports, his whole being one big smile, but my daughter prefers to endure her travail in private, a decision I support one hundred percent. Anyone who wants to give birth before an audience ought to get a reality show. Me, I'm happy to wait.
And wait and wait and wait.
Fortunately, others are here waiting too, and they all share that joyful/expectant/jittery/jumpy/happy/bouncy/incoherent manner of people expecting really exciting news any time now. Any old time. Any. Time. Now.
Now they're all leaving for lunch, but who can think of food at a time like this? I can, as it turns out. The next stage could take a few hours or the rest of the day. But we have granola bars, coffee out of a machine (but who cares how bad it is), and my daughter's in-laws on the way with lunch. We've got everything we need to hang out for a while--books, Kindle, netbook, newspapers, and patience. Patience patience patience. That ought to keep us going as we wait. And wait and wait and wait.
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And we have a granddaughter! 6 pounds, 12 ounces, 20 inches long. Mama and baby doing fine. Name and photos to follow.
Congratulations! A long, healthy, happy life to little Bon-Bon!
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