Angela and I were just remembering coming home from H’s birth, over two years ago.
We were at a hospital about four blocks from our house. They wouldn’t let us leave with the baby unless we put her into one of those infant carseats (or “baby buckets” as we call them around here). We hadn’t even brought a seat to the hospital and had to send a friend to get one.
We gathered up our things, strapped in the kid (our buckling job was carefully checked by one of the nurses), and hobbled slowly outside.
I grabbed a cab, put an exhausted Angela, who had just finished a long and grueling labor, inside with a friend who had come to help us home. I briefly considered strapping the seat into the non-LATCH equipped cab, and then thought better of it, took the kid out, and chucked the empty carseat in the cab. I carefully held our brand new daughter, swaddled in my arms, and walked the four blocks home.
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