The birth might have gone less glamorously then planned, and I was less cool then I would have liked. My pride was considerably affected, but once I had that baby in my arms I felt overqualified for my stay in the land of motherhood.
Due to my intensive and extensive preparations, I would excel in this.
I disdainfully tolerated the nurse who showed me how to bathe my baby. Imagine! Me, not know how to bathe my own baby?! The nerve of her!
Any other advice I waved away or boredly pretended to listen to.
An offer of Nivea Shampoo I breezily smiled away. I had brought my own stash of Zwitsal, thank-you-very-much! Because of the obvious superiority of that brand, naturally. It was the smell of my childhood!
It was the proper smell of any and all babies.
On the day we were allowed to go home, I was ecstatic. I packed up my baby and rushed out of the hospital, grinning at all we passed. In true opposite style of my sister, who was slightly shocked that these hospital people allowed her to take this baby home without even knowing if she was capable of taking care of it, I was happy to get away from these people who did not seem to realize that I knew far more about children then they ever did.
I would rock this, this being a mom!
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