There was an earlier period when she kicked everyone out, though at that point in time I was on the other side of the doors that need to be opened by nurses and had my camera. Right now I have my mother's cell phone and when I took it I traded to get her cell phone so I could be called it it looked like birth was happening. (My mother could use my sister's cell phone since my sister sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.)
Anyway, at that point in time my sister had evicted us from the room and then changed her mind to call back our parents and then changed her mind again to limit it to just our mother. So there was a lot of time spent with freedom of motion but nothing to do. Very boring. When I am bored and have a camera I take pictures. I also like getting pictures from various angles and the views out the windows here are angles I will probably never get again.
So I took pictures. Of the views, of the artwork, of the architecture. More recently of the same people (my sister's friends) as they moved in various positions, but at the time there weren't so many there. Nor was there so much motion. So mostly pictures of stuff.
I made no secret of doing this (nor did I intentionally draw attention to it, I just did it neither seeking to hide or show) and apparently one of the people who saw me thought I was a terrorist. Fortunately she didn't call the cops, she asked another woman, one of my sister's friends, what was up with me and it was explained that I was here legitimately and all was well.
Now then, around the same time, some of my sister's friends came in, one with a sword, another with a colander on his head that had an antler attached to each side and a fracking gas mask. They were
--Baby has been born, still not seeing visitors--
They were not view with suspicion. I repeat one had a sword the other a a gas mask. The sword was dulled (she was a sword swallower), but there was no way for anyone to do that. The gas mask was not so that he could survive an attack he released on others, but there was no way for anyone to know that.
I get branded the terrorist.
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In other news I managed to get to university to have a class and get back with more than enough time to be there for the birth, but doing so involved some of the less traveled paths (though given that I still haven't gotten back in I could have taken the slowest of of the more traveled paths and been fine) and in so doing I learned some things:
1 People who appear to be homeless are much more likely to greet me with a polite, "Hi," or, "Hello," where those who appear to be housed are much more likely to ignore my existence. Every person I crossed paths with between here and the university appeared to be homeless, appearances can be deceiving and for all I know they all live in mansions, all I can say is how they looked.
1 People who appear to be homeless are much more likely to greet me with a polite, "Hi," or, "Hello," where those who appear to be housed are much more likely to ignore my existence. Every person I crossed paths with between here and the university appeared to be homeless, appearances can be deceiving and for all I know they all live in mansions, all I can say is how they looked.
They all greeted me nicely.
2 The people where the rail line meets the disused prison road near the break in the chain link fence either forgot I have no weed or thought I was going to get more since they asked if I had any on both legs of the trip. The second time in rhyme ("If you've got weed, we've got the need.")
3 My sister's friends were able to immediately know the location I was referring to when I said, "The intersection of the rail and the out of repair prison road near the hole in the chain link fence."
That's an interesting bit of knowledge to have.
4 For the first time in my life I just, as in right after the period in the last sentence, heard someone seriously say, "Shut the front door," as an expression of shock, disbelief, and pissed offness. Also, since then, friggen, though that I have heard before.
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For the record, the hole in the chain link fence was the fence between the hospital and the rail line, not part of the prison.
There have been several false, "We can go in now," things, it's now 40 minutes since we were told a minute or two. Still haven't gotten to see the baby or learn his name.
It was ok for me to be there to comfort her while she was vomiting, or coughing up a lung (she was hoping the cold would pass before she had to give birth, it didn't) and hold her hand (she has a grip like a vice when she's in pain) while they tried to put more tubes in her, but now that the baby is out, well with all the distractions now it's been 50 minutes since one minute until can come in. An hour and 5ish since the birth.
I am somewhat worried that this might be my role for the baby going forward. "Hey, Chris, baby's sick, you're unemployed, you take care of him," "There's vomit everywhere, you deal with it," so forth. Which is why I couldn't ask the question I was asked something to the effect of, "Are you psyched about becoming an Uncle," with an unqualified yes. It has to be more of, "I don't know."
If I'm there in just good times, hell yes. If I'm there for the good and the bad I guess so, never had a nephew before, don't know what it'll be like. If I'm the dumping grounds for the, "Stuff is difficult/gross now," then no, not so much.
An hour and 15 minutes since the birth, I don't know the name yet.
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