There is a one-pound box of chocolate truffles from Regina's on our living room table right now. I needed something to soothe myself after Ben's circumcision today, so I asked Steve to stop and buy me a box. (He owed me because he ate practically the entire box that my friend Anne gave me in the hospital. Boy, was that a scene — I burst into tears when I discovered the empty box in the kitchen trash!) It's ironic. For the circumcision, I spent the entire time dipping a cotton swab soaked with sugar water in Ben's mouth. Now it's me who's stuffing my face with sweets.
Benjamin cried through most of the circumcision, and that was heart-wrenching. Then he nursed and nursed and fell asleep until the doctor came back an hour later to check his handiwork. I had my big cry about it last night. (I would have just as soon left our sons intact to avoid causing them any pain, but Steve felt strongly about it, so I deferred to him on the decision, which was made both times after weighing the pros and cons.) But it wasn't as traumatic for me as Daniel's circumcision was. I learned my lesson then: Don't watch. I kept my eyes squarely fixed on Ben's face and the sugar water, and I didn't let them stray downward to his penis, where with Daniel I saw too much of what was happening.
Ben's sleeping in my lap now, and I hope he heals up quickly and forgets that any of this ever happened.