…..GHATTU!!!

At 8.27 p.m., in a mad rush after being 6 days late, Ghatotkachh B M, red, grimacing and all of 3.5 kilos, made his grand entry into the world.

Mommy J is doing fine, (she looked mighty relieved to me) , Daddy M’s face has split into a permanent grin, Grandmas and Grandpa are delighted in their sweet wise way, Aunty S has threatened to make tandoori kebabs out of him (already) and Aunty OJ has, among other things, tripped over her own feet, jumped until she jiggled and congratulated the gynecologist in her blubbering excitement.

Ghattu, of course, looked mighty pissed at our paparazziness, although we were granted an audience for a whole 3 minutes before he was whisked off for his first bath.

I have GOT to stop wanting to cry. The girl I met at 15 while standing in line to pay Junior College fees is a mommy now. That’s no reason to bawl. Is it?

Oh, and one last thing: those of you who know me personally know how badly I want girls if and when I have babies. After what I’m feeling now, not so much. Just give me an itty bitty cuddly wuddly cutie patootie ball of happy healthy squishyness and I’ll be bowing and scraping heavenward.

To my darling J, congratulations.

To the Lord, thank you for this biggest of birthdays.

To my uterus, shut up and await your turn.