Olive is such a delight. I could never completely articulate my feelings for her. She's had dark brown eyes since the first day or two. I wonder if they'll stay. Her lashes are long and curled. Her nose is a little button - Mom says it's like mine. Her mouth is very cute, it looks like Chris'. She has a little dimple in her chin which Chris and I both have. Long fingers, long toes, and Chris says even her bottom is like mine. She has dark hair but not a ton of it. She has a bump on her head from where Dr. England had to use the vacuum to help get her out. I hope it goes away soon, it worries me. She smiles frequently in her sleep, and has even laughed a couple times. She's done a great job eating. Dr. Erickson said most babies lose weight at first and then gain it back, but she has only gained weight. Oh, she has a pretty expressive face and a curious little tongue. My favorite is when she's really content and awake and just looks around with those big brown eyes. She's so lovely. She uses her hands a lot and sometimes holds them up in a really dainty way. She makes such sweet little sounds; even her cries sound so sweet to me sometimes. Chris sings to her every night, and I'm constantly talking to her and singing to her. I really loved our few days in the hospital. It was like time stood still and all we had to do was relish in the joy of our new girl. I miss those few days.

I hate that I haven't written much since Olive was born. I'm sure there are a million tiny details I should've recorded but have forgotten. I'll do my best to recall everything I can. She'll be 2 weeks old tomorrow. She's the most wonderful thing in the world to me.

I've lost literally hours in holding and looking at Olive. I can't get over how pretty she is, and I can't believe she's ours to keep. Anyone who knows me well knows that I keep my days pretty packed and productive. And even as I sit here typing one-handed (my other arm is cradling the lovely girl), I'm only halfway thinking about all that needs to get done and mostly thinking about what a sweet privilege I have before me in being Olive's mom. Nothing needs my attention all that bad; the world can wait.

For so long Olive had been as real to me as Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster (all three had been seen in very blurry images). But when I saw her I just started to cry. Right before she was born the doctor decided to show me her head still inside Brooke. I couldn't contain the tears, I couldn't believe I could actually see her.

And when Olive came into this world it was one of the greatest feelings I have ever experienced. Brooke pushed for two and a half hours. (Coincidentally she and Olive are fast asleep next to me. Both are exhausted from the past four days). Then there was Brooke's final push and Olive had arrived. She was a grey little thing that immediately turned red. The doctor moved quickly and she was handed to others to be cleaned and checked out. When we finally got her in our arms we kissed and kissed her. It was wonderful. Family was present and they were so happy to see her. I called my mom, told her Olive was here. I spoke to my dad briefly and told him I loved him. What followed were lots of calls and texts to everyone, John, Cathy and Mikey, Jeff, Craig, Brandon and Peter and many others. I just was so happy.

During all this I thought, "I don't feel that different." It's still is a bit surreal even as she's here beside me. But I love her tiny fists, her monster poops and each sound she makes.

There were two things that made me most aware of my role as her father; first, she is the most beautiful baby ever. I know your children are cute and wonderful to you. I know that I have 29 nieces and nephews but the moment she was born, they quickly became less of a wonder to me. Don't get me wrong I love them all very much, but not nearly as much as I love her. As for other babies, not so cute. We went to buy diapers on Saturday while Olive was still in the hospital, the babies on the package, not really cute by comparison.

The second point or rather thought on being a father came when I went to get a gift for Brooke on Friday. I was driving back to the hospital and I had this rather (I can't think of the word) Utopian thought, "Why aren't we as a world better people?" now that Olive is here, why aren't we better people. She is so innocent and so willing to love this world. Why do we have to be cynical and detrimental to our own wellbeing? Why do we fight and cheat and steal? What does it profit us? Why can't we all be better for her sake? It seemed silly at the time and it still does.

Four days later I still wonder why aren't we better. I want to be a better man for Olive's sake. I really do want to make this world better for her sake. I'll join the PTA, help clean a highway, push for better government, do what I can. I really just wonder why we all don't feel that way.

So those are my thoughts so far as a new father. I love her so much. I hope you get to meet her soon.

She made it! And I guess it turns out I did, too. I hate to belabor the subject of my labor, but here's how it happened...

At about 3 am on Tuesday I started having more real pains than what I had felt up to that point so I thought for sure we'd be in the hospital later that day. Chris even canceled the ride-along he had scheduled for work. But we went ahead about our day, and although the pains were real and often scary, nothing happened. In fact, I was still having the same pains at 3 am the next morning, so that was delightful. The induction was scheduled for 7:30 that morning, and that's when we got started. Most of the time between then and 6:30 pm was spent just anticipating, mixed in with such events as getting my IV, getting my water broken, and getting the epidural. None of those were as awful as I had expected, by the way, so I was happy about that. I did have a reaction to the epidural - my blood pressure dropped really low and I almost lost consciousness; that was scary. But the anesthesiologist, Dr. Stetler, was seriously wonderful and he brought me back pretty quick. My nurse Misti was fantastic too; she laughed heartily at most of Chris' boredom-induced jokes and she was really good about answering questions and explaining everything we did. Plus she loaded me up with popsicles and ice chips, and who doesn't love that while you're in labor? They had to go in and put an internal monitor on Olive's head and one in my uterus in order to track my contractions and her heart rate; for some reason the external monitors weren't working for me. And there was a bit of worry because every time I had a contraction Olive's heart rate dropped pretty significantly. We weren't sure how she'd be able to handle it when I would surely start having harder longer ones later on. So there was talk of a possible C-section. Chris and I said a little prayer together, and sure enough she started improving after a little while. The other red flag was that there was meconium in the amniotic fluid, and if Olive ingested or aspirated it that could mean infection. Then later I started getting a high fever - something around 102 degrees - and that was bad news for Olive too. So needless to say, things got a little stressful. I started actually pushing at 6:35 in the evening. Two hours of what seemed like unproductive pushing went by. I couldn't seem to get her past my pubic bone. Dr. England, my awesome doctor, suggested we use a little help from the vacuum; I was worried but Jenny reassured me that a couple of her kids had needed it and it would be fine. It seems like everything happened really fast after that. Chris will have to tell you things from his perspective at that point because all I know is that one minute I was pushing, pushing, pushing (and maybe even screaming a little), and the next minute I had the biggest feeling of relief in the world. She was out. The cord was wrapped around her neck, so Dr. England took care of that right away. And then they took her a few feet away where Dr. Stetler intubated her and cleaned out any meconium she had gotten a hold of. They did a bunch of other stuff to her too, and all I could do was cry and ask to see her. They finally gave her to us, and Chris and I bawled our eyes out. He definitely cried more than I did, but we were so happy and in awe that she was actually there with us. We spent the next 48 hours in room 213 recovering and not really resting at all. Olive had to stay in the nursery on an IV of antibiotics and some sugary stuff. But they brought her to me every few hours so we could work on feeding and bonding. I won't lie, the breast feeding was tough at first and she and I both got a little sad and frustrated, but with the help of the lactation specialist we got the hang of it. And now she's a little piglet! I was discharged late last night, but Olive had to stay because she has jaundice (has jaundice? is jaundiced? how do you say it?) She's under the bili lights till at least tomorrow morning. It was heartbreaking for me to leave her there, but we've been going back every couple of hours to feed her and to bring what I've pumped. Chris has been the best pumper-helper in the world, by the way. We miss her a lot, and can't wait to bring her home with us.

It's actually time right now for us to go over and see her. I love my little girl!

Around 3 am Olive seriously smiled at me.

Olive's arrival!