***As for yesterday, well, apparently the woman never showed up. We appreciate your prayers and know that God's timing in this whole thing is perfect, even when we feel ourselves slowly going nuts. Legal things are happening on a daily basis but I won't go into detail. At this point it seems that we will not learn anything new until the court date which is scheduled for April. Currently the potential birth father is refusing to take a DNA test unless he can first see the baby. We're not likely to agree to that anytime soon. Please keep praying. We are stressed!
Blood and guts don't bother me. I should have been a medical professional. Aside from the fact that my mind was far from wired for the sciences and I'd likely have failed straight out of school, I think I'd be great. I stay calm under pressure. Oh sure, I completely freak out when my house is cluttered but give me some blood and some real distress and I tend to remain totally level headed.
We kind of had to get out of the hospital really quickly on the day we were discharged. There was so much baby daddy drama going on that we were escorted out before we could have Matthew circumcised. Not only did we want him circumcised for a plethora of reasons, it was also the desire of his birth mother. So the nurses told us to have it done by his pediatrician. Today was the big day.
We all went to Matthew's doctor's appointment. He weighs 8 lbs 15 oz and is just shy of 21 inches long. He was actually 21 inches, according to the nurse, but I was supposed to be holding his head against that back and, well, that little booger is strong and wanted no part of it. So let's just say he's 21 inches if you count his hair. When it came time for the circumcision, the doctor said that we could attend or we could not attend, it was completely up to us. She then added that they make the dads sit down because they never handle it as well as the moms. I can understand that. Men seem to be a whole lot more concerned about the ahem business than women. I quickly informed her that Troy and Garrett would certainly not be in attendance. I had no intention of scarring my toddler for life. As for me, well, I hadn't yet decided. I hadn't been given the option with Garrett, they just took him away in the hospital and he came back a little, uh, shorter. She left to set up the O.R. (which was just a different exam room and wasn't really an operating room at all). I sat down next to Troy.
Me: Should I go?
Him: It's up to you.
Me: I should probably be with him.
Me: Plus then I can blog about it.
Him: There is seriously something wrong with you.
You have no idea.
I'll spare you the details but it was incredibly fascinating. The form of oral medication administered to my seventeen day old baby: sugar water. We've always believed that sugar, in moderation, is completely acceptable and our child has been allowed to consume cookies, cake and ice cream in small quantities. Or, as was the case at our Christmas Open House, huge volumes since everyone who walked in the door helped serve Garrett cookie after cookie. In any case, even he didn't have sugar at two weeks of age. Obviously the pediatrician isn't too concerned about keeping children completely away from the stuff since it was her drug of choice. His little member was numbed and the "surgery" took about fifteen minutes. He screamed a couple of times and each time the doctor instructed me to squirt more sugar into his mouth. At one point he was particularly upset and, as I pressed the tube into his mouth, I said, "Do you need something stronger? A Costco cake, maybe?" The nurse and the pediatrician thought I was kidding*.
He survived the ordeal but he is a gigantic grump now. I feel like a total heel. Currently he is sleeping and making the most adorable coo sounds with each breath. And, okay, so I know this is completely politically incorrect but I want to eat him. He is just so deliciously chocolaty. I wanted to consume Garrett, too, when he was that age, but he didn't look like the finest milk chocolate. I am positively in love with his skin tone. Positively.
I kind of feel like I'm going to lose a lot of readers (which of the six of you is going to jump ship?) after talking about male appendages and circumcision and eating my African-American son. Please forgive me. It helps me keep my mind off of the ulcer I'm working on growing.
*Of course I was kidding but we Doozleberry's do like to self medicate with buttercream frosting.