Meet the Breeders

It is finished. And it has begun.

That's Anna Ingrid, who finally decided to make an appearance at 5:35 PM on Feb. 22nd after 60 hours of seriously intense struggle. Ridiculous. My wife no longer gets to claim that she is a wimp. She can try, of course, but from now on any such protestations will be met with a reminder of the 2.5 days spent crapping a small (6.5 lb) rocking chair in slow motion. Color me amazed.

By the way, that's not me looking at the baby. That's me falling over from exhaustion.

I was going to write a more exhaustive account to include the scare we had when she was born, and I still may do so, but for now short and sweet seems the best way. It's only a baby. Granted, in addition to being really really ridiculously good-looking as well as the smartest, most well-behaved child to ever grace the surface of the earth, it is still only a baby and only marginally interesting to someone on the outside. Thus, I promise I will try (and note here that I said "try") to not be that guy who writes long and/or sappy diatribes about his child with an accompanying stream of photos that never ends. Did I mention she smells like flowers on a spring day after a fresh rain? She does.

Whenever the subject would come up, my father (and several others) would always say, "Once you have a child of your own, you'll wonder just how in the world you ever lived without him/her."

He was right. Consider me officially on that bandwagon.


She is precious to me.

(Many thanks to all of you who sent emails of congratulations. They were very much appreciated.)