I got a phone call at 3:30am Monday to get my ass to the hospital.

And now?

I have a baby!
Except….he’s not mine. He’s my sister’s. But he’s probably the closest thing I’ll have to my own (by choice). I was at the hospital “accidentally” when their first son was born – I was just supposed to take Meghan in to get her induction started and then hand her off to her husband after a few hours. Turns out she was already in labor by the time we got there, and she likes to have babies FAST.

Since I was there for her first and took some decent pictures that the new parents were too occupied to take: the weighing, the measuring, new mom and dad holding new baby – they decided to invite me back for take two.
That, and I told her I wouldn’t come babysit if she didn’t invite me back.

Amazing what a threat like that can do to a situation:
Gold engraved invitation, fruit basket, rocking chair in the room.

I guess she thought the first kid took too long, so she quartered the time for this one.

Arrival at the hospital: 4:00am.
Baby arrival time: 4:30am.

Leaving me just enough time to go home, shower, and go to work. Boo! (why couldn’t she have dragged that out a bit….?)

(And I think if she hadn’t been in the middle of labor pains, she would’ve gotten some demented glee out of waking me up like that…. It would’ve been well-deserved.)


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