Here some more pictures, but first an update. Jude and Mom are still doing good. They’ve both been checked out by their doctors and they said everything is looking great. Erica’s been up and about a little, taking a shower and then we took a short walk as a family. Jude sleeps a lot, unfortunately it’s not always in his crib. (He prefers a warm cuddly chest it would appear.) With that being the case Mom and Dad are very tired, but good. And now for what you came for.
Today at 1:51 Jude Michael Grant was born into this world. Jude weighs 8 pounds and 4 ounces, and came in at just over 20 inches long. Mom and baby are doing fine. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment:
I’ve had several titles in my life, but only one name. To my parents, friends, wife, and extended family I have always been Shawn. Even to my students I am typically called by my Christian name, and to be honest I have always liked it that way. No pretense…simple, pure, the same no matter the situation.
Tomorrow, however, I get a new name. Dad. It’s three letters, one syllable, it easily rolls off the tongue, and yet it carries a weight a signification that I have never considered before tonight. I’ve never really thought of myself as a Dad. After all I’m Shawn, or so the people in my life continually remind me.
I know it may sound silly, but in my life the name Dad has only ever belonged to one person. His real name is Michael or Mike, but I never knew him by that name. To me he was always and ever will be Dad. It’s hard to believe that tomorrow there is someone who will look at me the way that I have looked at him.
To be honest I’m not sure I’m ready for such a change, and while I recognize that the name is freely given I hope that I can earn the right to deserve it.
I just went to see Pirate Radio, and as movies goes it’s a fine experience. It’s neither great or bad, it’s just ok. (For most I’d say wait for the DVD, but for those who just like movies it might be worth the price of a matinee.) Watching this film, however, got me thinking about music in general.
There seems to be this myth that music is this mystical, salvific experience. Now I know this is true for some. I know people who without music would cease to survive, or at the very least their quality of life would be greatly reduced. But this narrative of the omnipotence of music, which is often presented as universal, has never really connected with me.
I like music. I appreciate its emotive properties, but music never saved me my soul. There are no songs that have changed my life, and no albums that list among my most significant influences. Again I like music, I just don’t understand the starry-eyed worship of so many.
But then again this is how I feel about a good story. Stories, whether in books or movies, have the power to transport me to another place. In my youth I may never have really deeply immersed myself in the world of music, but from the well of story I have often drunk deeply. To this creative output I am deeply indebted, and I would defend the power of the written word as many defend music.
While I may not get the music devotion of so many, I get the power of creativity to move us. I’m thankful that the creations of others have the power to speak to us on a deep and real level.
I know this may seem random, but I celebrate the power of creativity even if those creative expressions don’t always reach me. If you have the power to create, I think you should. It’s good for the soul, even if that soul isn’t mine.
So I have been feeling under the weather for about a week and a half. For the first five days I was uncomfortable, but able to get my stuff done. Then for five days I felt miserable pretty much all day. Now I oscillate between moments of pretty intense craptitude and moments of seeming relief.
This week I’ve been holed up in my house almost exclusively. I feel slightly like a cat who is able to control the television. I sleep for about 14 hours a day, and in my waking moments eat, bathe, and of course watch television. I wish all this lying about led to having something profound to say, some insight on life, but alas it has not.
I just wanted to let everyone know I am still alive. For the curious few I saw the doctor again today, and after prescribing me 4 new medicines and deciding that I did in fact have some sort of sinus infection and bronchitis. (On Tuesday they thought I had seasonal flu, which apparently I may have had as well.) In any case she said I should feel better in a few days, but if not she invited me back for another appointment on Monday.
So I’m alive and living high on antibiotics, OJ, and cough syrup with codeine. Here’s to Western medicine.