A full moon and a new moon

One evening this week, I failed the smile test.

The smile test, for those who haven't happened across this same page on a Google search, is the test to see if a woman should go to the hospital while in labor. If she can still smile for the camera, she isn't ready.

Or something. I went anyway. I hurt enough.

And for the next 5 hours, I kept on hurting. Right now I'm leaning against publishing the birth story (I have a lot of it written up, and a few cue words to help me flesh out the rest of it, and I can email it to interested parties), but it suffices to say there was a little bit more screaming than last time. Mostly for the last minute and a half.

And then . . . there was a baby!

8 pounds and 7.6 oz of perfection. And more than a half pound more than the highest guess ten seconds before.

My first words about him were, "He's so slippery."

But ever since then, I'd describe him as "the most talented, most interesting, and most extraordinary person in the universe."

Welcome to the world, Matthew Henry!