Mornings and brand-new babies

The last few tendrils of sleep had begun to barely drift away when my cell phone buzzed.

I was so warm--so warm, and cozy, subconsciously delighted that the winter drafts had not yet begun to invade my sleepy mornings--that I groaned, thinking, no, please, it can't be time to get up yet. Not yet.

I reached for my cell phone, saw a text message--two text messages, three.

He's here; he's finally arrived.

I'll text them back at a reasonable hour, I decided, the ache in my head winning out over the joy I might have possibly felt if I'd possessed full, coherent thoughts.

Five minutes later, my phone buzzed again, this time repeatedly. A call. I groggily reached for my phone again, and managed to get one eyelid open enough to see the name. My 8-year-old sister, calling from her brand-new cell.

I'll call her back later, I decided.

Two seconds later, another buzz. Voicemail.

I reached for my phone and turned it to "alarm only." I still had another hour before I got up, and it was best for everyone if I slept until then.

When I finally made it out of bed, I had three or four pictures texts, two regular texts, one missed call and a voicemail.

The baby is finally here, the delivery went well, he's an absolutely doll, mom is doing fine.

I, and the rest of siblings, are now aunts and uncles for the third time. Hello, beautiful Baby Greg*. I can't wait to meet you, hopefully at a decent hour. As in, some time after 10 or so, perhaps.



*Not his real name. His real name is so interesting and unique that you probably wouldn't believe me if I told it to you. I decided to nickname him something "normal." Greg is very normal.