My sister gave birth to a son on Monday. Joy! It happened unexpectedly. Surprise!
And I don’t mean she didn’t realise she was pregnant, because that was fairly obvious with her growing belly that would have made any redneck beer-drinker very proud. The little rascal arrived four weeks sooner than expected. He couldn’t wait to experience corrupt politicians, global warming, noise, traffic and off course superhero movies in 3D.
There was only a slight problem, her hubby, who’s also a travelling businessman like me, were in Singapore on Monday. Yes, shit! He finally made it home missing the birth by a mere 24 hours. Sis, the champion that she is, went through the whole ordeal all by herself, getting her three-year old girl to school, packing the little suitcase and driving to work, all whilst wondering why she was feeling so much discomfort and pain. Turns out that’s what they call labour. (And this is another reason why I think woman are awesome. The other reason being that they have boobies.)
Unfortunately sis and I don’t live in the same city, but fortunately my parents rushed to her side. And they were only 2 hours too late.
I didn’t have many discussions with her about the actual birth, and only know it was a caesarean. Which, in my modest opinion, is the only option for child-birth there is. Why would any person choose to experience the pain, sweat, screams and agony of birth if you don’t have to? Not to mention what the woman must be going through at the time.
She claims to have no regrets for it was excruciating to begin with, and by the time they slit her stomach, she only progressed 1 cm in labour. Whatever the hell that means…There is such a thing as too much information…
Brother-in-law tells me that even though he wasn’t there for the birth, he did go though the process of telling a woman to relax and breathe. The woman being his screaming, anxiety stricken travel agent who, upon hearing the news, had to get him on the first plane out of Singapore. (It’s not the same brother…)
Due to the early arrival of baby, he was left without a name. And I don’t blame them, for choosing a name is like taking a trip to Cairo, by car. And I did mention the agony of choosing a name here. The little guy ended up in ICU for being premature, but he’s a real fighter. (Takes after his uncle) The photo I’ve seen shows him lying in his little crib with, what seems like a mutated octopus, with his tentacles all over his tiny body. Maybe the photo was not the best quality.
Don’t worry, everything is going really well, and we can’t wait for the little fellow to go home. My point is, we had concern and experienced anguish for a little person called Baby.
A name is important. It’s unique and those few letters define us, mere mortal humans. If not we would have called our kids Boy 1 or Girl 2. So it’s an important decision, selecting his brand if you will . It will be the first thing he learns to write. And not only on paper, he’ll write it on walls, the kitchen floor and car dashboards as well. He’ll hear the pronunciation of it a gazillion times. In different tones, by different people. So you can’t just pluck it out of thin air, you have to put some thought into it. Give it some meaning.
But it remains weird to have a brand spanking new little human on planet earth and not have a name ready. I suggested that they use a strong, popular, masculine name, something that raises an air of royalty and status, like Pieter…but for some reason they didn’t bite.
Got a call this morning that they have decided on a name. Must have read that post I wrote, for it turned out pretty cool. So this is an ode to a new inhabitant of planet earth, another member of our growing family. A little person whom we can’t wait to meet. Welcome to the world, Andrew Matthew Stewart. We love you already!
Still think Pieter would not have been a bad choice though…