Shortly after he was born, Michael and I debated our last two names---fitting disciples Andrew and Luke. While Watson grinned that David was a wonderful name, we explained that David was already the first born boy on one side. Luke being too short to offer Michael the plethora of nicknames he needs, we settled on Andrew. Andrew Grier Killian.
Our days in the hospital were crazy. You wonder where on earth the time goes, but it certainly goes somewhere! Michael slept at home on my orders and was with us except to go to lacrosse practice. The girls wondered where Mommy was, but Dad swooped in to feed them each day and take them to run at practice, so they weren't overly concerned.
Discharge from the hospital Friday was an unexpectedly emotional experience for me. I thought I'd be excited to get back to my own bed, but I was suddenly feeling clueless. What would we do without all of our friends here, all of the people with all of the answers, all of the people that take Andrew away so I can sleep and help me feed him with a tube since my milk isn't in? It's not an easy transition, but Michael had worked hard to get the base in the car that morning and he & Cigna said we were going to use that carseat whether I cried about it or not!
You can't imagine the feeling of walking into your house the first time with your first baby. It's as surreal of an experience as pregnany and childbirth are. Andrew was asleep, so I settled in for a nap, too. The next week is a blur. It was nothing more than cycles of crying, feeding, and sleeping...for everyone. Until my milk arrived for my starving boy Sunday night, feedings were a family affair involving syringes, tubes, and formula. Michael never knew he'd play a role in "breast" feeding! I hadn't realized how early on we would be tricking Andrew in order to protect him:)
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