Home at last, home at last! My baby boy is healthy and beautiful. He arrived Monday at 12:25 in the afternoon (that's a 10:50 operating room slot, on Island Time). He was about 18 1/2 inches long, 7 pounds, 3 ounces, with sandy brown hair and eyes like the sea after a storm.

Only when speaking of a baby can I say both that he is beautiful and that he looks like a cross between Kevin Spacey and Mr. Magoo.

The hospital experience - surgery and aftercare - was surprisingly positive. I definitely went in with a better attitude this time, and since there weren't any concerns about baby's size and weight, I wasn't being woken up every two hours to nurse. He slept a lot, and I slept a lot. I am definitely recuperating better this time than the first time around.

We came home on Thursday, and I've been trying to rest. But in truth, I really don't feel all that bad. Two years ago at this time, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. This time, comparatively, the truck just brushed past me. I'm still taking painkillers (nothing narcotic, just your basic weapons-grade Tylenol and anti-inflammatories), I get tired easily, and I'm moving verrrrrry slowwwwly. It's taken me an hour to type this post. And now I need a nap.