All hail, Prince Conrad

The lead up to his arrival was can be effectively summarised as such:

PAINFUL.

If you have never been pregnant, just take this at face value. If you have, you will know the real magnitude of that 7 letter word. It will not earn you more than 12 points in a scrabble game. But when you have weathered it, you will emerge, a mother.

By the last few weeks, we were playing the waiting game. It was a game many parents would be familiar with. The rules are simple. Step 1: Wait. Step 2: Wait somemore. Step 3: You continue waiting.

And then when you can't bear the waiting anymore. You induce. And when you get wheeled into the delivery ward to be induced. You WAIT AGAIN. This time, in a hell lot of pain. 22 hours of a hell lot of pain to be precise.

And then you get this:

A screaming bundle of joy. But a bundle of joy no less.

One of my favourite picture of my baby darling in his first moments of his arrival. The feeling of holding him in my arms was quite, surreal. Like one moment he was a lump in my tummy, and the next, he becomes this fully-formed (thank god) human-being lying and peering at you, in the arms that will cradle him for the good, first years.

There is no experience like childbirth really. That is information only privileged dudettes will ever receive. And this is why dudes should always give in when we argue. I remember reading this somewhere and these are words of wisdom: Childbirth is like an invincible trump card which has unlimited power.  Henceforth, fights with the hubby should go like this...

Me: I want this to be done that way!
Hubby: You are being unreasonable...
Me: But I gave birth to your son?! 22 hours you know?!
Hubby: Ok I'm sorry. Let's do it your way.

Yup. Something along those lines.