We’re back. We’ve been back for more than a week, but since then we’ve had two colds (well, one cold per child), a four-hour time change, many unsynchronized naps, and zero hours for me to be awake alone and writing anything. Also, I have been grumpy. Sunshine withdrawal?
I have things I want to write about:
creative life or lack thereof
a meta-complaint about all my complaining (I bet you can hardly wait)
a general Iris update, complete with mysterious blood blister
For now, I’m finally posting the story of Iris’s birth. It is scandalously long, and you will only enjoy it if you really like birth stories. For ages I wanted to write a shorter, more pretty and lyrical version, but you can imagine what happened to that plan.
Re-reading it and editing it, I’ve gotten all wistful about pregnancy and birth. We are, as they say, “done.” There is no way we should be raising a third child, nor do we really want one. But I’m ridiculously sad that the whole business of growing and pushing out babies is behind me forever. Anyone out there looking for a 33-year-old, lactating gestational surrogate?