Blood Of My Blood

I have no idea what time I was born. I'm sure I was told dozens of times, but it just never stuck in my memory . I can pretty much guarantee you, though, that I will never forget what time my son was born. Which, by the way, was 6:10am. Today.

Henry Lawrence Jonat. Impossibly perfect. Really, it beggars belief. Shortly after he was born, while the midwives were attending to his mother, Henry was left to his overwhelmed father's care. He just slept, curled up on my chest. Pretty sure it's the highlight of my life so far.

If Henry is a small, perfect miracle, his mother is a full-grown one. She never complained, never screamed at me (none of that 'YOU DID THIS TO ME' stuff the movies tell you to expect). In fact, between contractions she kept asking if I was okay! When Henry started his move, it got pretty intense. But as painful as it got, she never lost focus, she just kept right on task. No painkillers or sedatives or whatever, nothing. She blew my mind!