Ussins

Here are pictures by Tia of him at 12 days old (alot of them with me). Click the thumbnails for larger pictures.

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I come to him in his mother’s arms and stroke his face and head. He smiles.

Here is a video of him right at birth. This also has him in the nursery and at five days. I’m in it briefly and Tia a bit more. It’s quicktime format and could be a long download depending (28 megabytes, about 7 minutes). Click the play button when it’s done loading.

Stuff happened I didn’t write down. Baby’s circumusion was a horror; Tia grew faint and couldn’t stand at the table to comfort him with me. I’m convinced the anesthetic didn’t work. He’s changed since; the exhuberance tempered, a prior nonexistent uneasiness emerged. It breaks my heart. Also baby was jaundiced and fought his way out of it with special blue lights. Ooooh. He hated the confinement of the suitcase/blue light booth and ultimately would not use it.

This is the story of Tia bringing our first baby into the world.
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The day after his birth a lullaby came to me from the clear bright blue, in an invented folksy melody. At times this sounds like Home on the Range - also I used a line from it.

Oh my wee baby blue
I’d lay down for you
Just to give you the sun for a day
For without you my blue
It sometimes is true
That the skies are all cloudy and gray

Oh hoodilay-Holiday-Billy, la-Lili, da-day
Ba-hoodiba-Billy-da-day!
With the Irish we’d die
For our mothers would cry
For the days to be sunny and green

This picture is of our baby boy at 5 hours old. My wife gave birth to him on Saint Patrick’s Day (March 17th) 2005 at 2:03 AM. I won’t here disclose his name (and at the moment I’m still not totally settled on any name, only that my nickname for him is Mago Elf Liam.

Weights and measures, which I usually don’t much care for (snip gripes) are in next post.

Following are features of Baby.

He pines for the Irish

The day he decided to arrive underscores the Irish part of my family’s heritage. There are Irish ancestors on my father’s side. My sister’s second baby girl came on St. Patrick’s day just one year before our own St. Patrick’s day baby; so that Mago Elf Liam has a St. Patrick’s day cousin. There is a tradition among my mother’s forebearers of forebearer migrants from Ireland. Another sister was called to serve a mission in Ireland. Another sister picked an Irish name for her second daughter. Plus, the Irish are special, and I’ve always known that I’m special, so I and my baby must be Irish.

But with an alarm for ire

His little elf ears know good from evil. If I use irked tones (about hospital security thrice saying they don’t have my keys and then I finally found a nurse station that said someone turned them in four hours ago and then they called security and then security, apparently as opposed to before, actually looked and lo, they had my keys those many hours), baby fusses. If I apologize and lighten up, he calms right down. He knows better than me: A lot of things you don’t like in this world won’t change, or at the least you can’t make them, so accepting it and forgiving is better than fussing. But can I complain about a hospital you don’t know the name of? Help me, Mago Elf, you’re my only hope..

He coos and sometimes whimpers

At his birth he cooed at every exhale while sleeping: eeeeeeeeeeeh, eeeeeeeeeh, eeeeeeyeeeeeeh..