For the past 89 days, I have spent some portion of my time, every day, in a hospital. For the first 14, I was the patient. Then, for the next 75, I would spend visiting my daughter, waiting for her to grow from one pound, fifteen ounces, and fourteen inches long to where she is now, six pounds, three ounces and eighteen inches long. I am sure I will recount the struggles, the challenges, the battles, the victories and all the moments experienced in between someday. But, for now, I will simply celebrate the homecoming of my daughter. She is not sleeping at the moment even though I fed her by bottle and by breast and bathed her and sang to her and changed her and swaddled her.
And that's ok.
I will look into those deep dark blue eyes taking in all that is new and unfamiliar and undeniably home. There are no bright fluorescent lights here. No beeping monitors or laughing nurses or hourly vitals to be taken. There is just us. Just the four of us (Roxy is still getting used to her - her hands and feet have been licked all in good measure).
Here's to baby.
Here's to a new life.
Here's to the next great adventure.