That when we left the hospital Tuesday, I’d be struck with that whole, but they can’t let us leave! NO ONE has deemed me competent enough yet to walk out of here with this baby. 

I thought I’d say to my nurse, are you sure I’m allowed to leave?! Don’t you need to give me a test? Where’s the test? 

Or once we got in the car it’d be, WHO THE HELL IN THEIR RIGHT MIND JUST LET US WALK OUT OF HERE WITH A BABY?! 

To my complete surprise — I didn’t have any of these thoughts. Not even anything remotely close. I’m thinking the majority of this was due to extreme fatigue and endorphins. I’m pretty sure no new mother has any time to coherently put thoughts together post birth. I didn’t.

I thought that I’d be documenting the shit out of everything. Baby’s first feeding. Baby’s first holding. Baby’s first car ride home. Baby’s first walk through our front door. And so forth.

Instead I barely have any pictures on my phone and when I think of the effort it requires to document, mainly because I can never find my phone when I need it, the moment is either gone or has taken too long and well, who has the time or patience for that? Not I.

I thought … Baby J would feel so new to me, so: omfg I can’t believe he’s HERE.

Instead it feels like he’s always been here … some part of him. Hovering around us. Hanging out.

I thought this was Emma Charlotte. I was so absolutely sure and hearing I was having a boy, shook shit up for me. Yet the second he was born, I knew. He was supposed to be here. How could it ever have been any other way? Of course. A boy … my boy … my son.

Exactly as it should be.