Rosalie celebrated her first month of life on Friday — with a visit to the doctor. We took surface roads, because the BQE was flooded (despite it being an elevated highway; a fine trick), and got to observe some hungover Hasidim in south Williamsburg. Once we arrived, we found out that all of the hard work she and Mama have been doing is paying off: our baby weighed in at 7.8 pounds (7 pounds, 13 ounces, for the Imperially minded).
The other highlight of the visit was the Heel Stick Redux. Either the original nurse or the state lab in Albany screwed up, so our baby had to undergo this important but gruesome process again. The kindly doctor suggested, strongly, that Reba might want to leave the room; I got to hold the screaming baby. On his blog, our friend Christian from birth class captured the horror perfectly, so I’ll take the liberty of sharing his words here:
I stayed with you and held your little hands as they, literally, bled your heel. You cried the cry of tortured angels. I was almost certain the heavens were going to open up, fire and brimstone was going to come raining down or, at the every least, that your mom was going to kick down the door, scoop you up and carry you to safety.
Fortunately, Rosalie is pretty good-natured, and once the blood-letting was complete she settled back down and has been an absolute doll ever since.