The hospital bills are in, and it seems that I procured myself a daughter for the bargain price of fifteen thousand dollars. Luckily, my insurance company has already paid nearly all of it. Suckers.
When you add in all the various baby items that we have either purchased or received, I think the total comes closer to, eh, let's say a nice even twenty grand. This makes Mia the third most expensive thing in my life, and I'm sure she will move into second place before long. As she is so costly, you would think I would be more careful to not do things such as dropping her right on her head.
Ok, I didn't drop her. I did allow her to roll head-first off of a pillow onto a hard floor, producing a very impressive thunk for such a small skull. I am torn between wanting to take her to the doctor for a quick check and CAT scan, and being afraid to call the doctor in case they decide to put her in foster care to get her away from her incompetent mother. I think the best solution is to go to the doctor and then blame the whole thing on Chris.
He really should be more careful.
(In my defense, I was distracted by the poop. There was poop everywhere. You would have been a little distracted too - how can so much poop come out of such a little bottom? And how does it get all the way up her back? Mysteries of the universe.)
Bad Mommy Update: We went to the doctor. She's fine, her legs are freakishly strong, and she has gained 22 ounces in 13 days.