I promised I'd post a picture of him if he wasn't grotesque, and as it turns out, he is objectively the cutest baby in the history of humankind. So here he is:
His name is Oliver Owen Kreisman, and since you're dying to know when he was born, how much he weighed and how much space he takes up on a table, I'll tell you.
Born: 5:44 pm on June 1, 2018
Weight: 7 lb, 3 oz
Length: 21 inches
Depth: 3.5 inches
His timing was a bit of a surprise. Erin and I went in for our weekly appointment with her OBGYN, and received the news that Erin's blood pressure was a tad high. We zipped next door for some tests, and while everything looked good for the most part, it was ultimately her doctor's decision to induce right away. Which meant that we didn't even have a chance to grab our carefully packed bags, say good-bye to the cats, or pull in the trash bins from the curb. But life does not wait for garbage day.
Oliver was born almost exactly 24 hours later, and Erin and I were thrilled to see him emerge healthy, with all of his bits and pieces intact. I momentarily forgot that a newborn's head is elongated after birth, so for a second I was worried that my wife had been fooling around with a Conehead. But everything else looked perfect, and his head has since rounded out.
No real complications or dangers, other than there being a bit of amniotic fluid in Oliver's lungs that needed to be removed via a process I want to say was called "dressage," although I know that's not right. Anyway, they sucked up the bad stuff, and he's since been ingesting all of the good stuff, and now he's peeing like a busted hydrant and filling his diaper with dijon mustard. We just got home from his first trip to the pediatrician, and everything looks great. Four days in and the kid is still in mint condition. He's really been retaining his resale value.
Now begins the hard part. (I can almost see Erin giving me the stink-eye as she reads this.) We have to take this tiny lump of moldable, foldable Play-Doh and fashion it into some semblance of a human being. I'm already panicked that I haven't been working with him enough on his ABCs. He is not remotely potty trained. His "sitting up" game needs serious work. I know on some level that all of this stuff will take time, and we should just enjoy his infancy and appreciate the little things, but at the same time, I can't wait for him to hop up on the couch with me so we can marathon the Back to the Future trilogy. Now that he's here, I just want to experience the many million future iterations of him all at once. I'm still terrified by the pressure of being responsible for a person, but can't freakin' wait to find out who that person will be.
But, of course, it would be a crime to spoil this special period of his life by not living entirely in the moment. And I don't want to downplay the really cool things he can do so far. Like plank...
...and wink slyly.
I know that he's more or less just a peeing-and-pooping machine at the moment, but as peeing-and-pooping machines go, he's remarkably adorable and fun to be around. So, while it's difficult not to spend time pondering what's in store for this kid, and what this kid has in store for us, I'm going to do my best to take things as they come, appreciate the day-to-day surprises, and use his diaper-changing sessions to work on my gag reflex.
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