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No, I would not like to cut the cord

Not even a symbolic snip of the last few inches. I was instructed to put on scrubs and booties and mask and a silly hat, and not to touch anything that might be sterile. Okay, a newly-extracted baby covered in blood and goo and other stuff probably isn't sterile but I still prefer to practice my cutting skills on things that aren't yelling at the top of their healthy little lungs about how effing cold and bright it is out here.

Not that any of you were waiting with bated breath or anything: Baby not-Natalie arrived a little before noon; he and Julie are doing fine. And darn the maternity unit for not having wireless. (But if they did, not a baby in the place would sleep for the clacking of keyboards.) More when more of us are awake.