Finnegan Roarke Walker
September 29, 2015, 11:39 p.m.
7 lbs, 8.4 oz, 19 inches and one adorable chin dimple
|40 toes, you guys. I am responsible for FORTY TOES.|
(It's also the end of morning sickness and overwhelming exhaustion and being unable to exercise or eat raw cookie dough or drink wine and the end of feeling like I'm trapped in a bloated whale's body and having to pee every three minutes and insomnia and horrible pain and endless anxiety about things going wrong ...)
It's bittersweet, but mostly sweet. Ninety percent of me is shouting "HALLELUJAH!" (I don't love being pregnant and I'm not ashamed of the fact) and the other ten percent feels melancholy about such a monumentally life-changing chapter in my life being over so fast. Four kids in exactly four years and five months (I KNOW, RIGHT?!?) It's been such a crazy ride it's hard to process it all. Should I have enjoyed it more? Taken more pictures? Been less of an awful pregnant person? Used my raging hormones as an excuse to deck people? Eaten less ice cream? Eaten MORE ice cream? Probably.
Thankfully, though (soooo thankfully), it's over now. The last of the worry and wonder of this incredibly INTENSE stage is on the horizon.
It's the end of an era.
And the beginning of a brand new life.
Welcome to the world, little one! We love you so very much.