Slightly More Than Fashionably Late

So, I had the baby.

Yep. A 9lb 4.9oz baby boy. 2 weeks late and just 3 weeks shy of a year ago.

I guess you could say that things have been a bit crazy. There are countless times a week where I say that I am going to sit down and finally blog about it. And then I don’t. Not because I have no words. Oh I have PLENTY. And perhaps part of the non birth story is because there are too many words. And they aren’t ones that fill my heart with joy, even though he does.

Oh, his name is Dylan. Dylan Henry Joseph. After 42 weeks of pregnancy, we still hadn’t chosen a name for a boy. So on the day he was born, instead of feeling a sweet sense of relief and just bonding with this new tiny human, I had to stare at him and try to figure out what or who he looked like. I so wanted him to look like a Timothy, but he didn’t. I cried. Could have been the after pains, or they were just a convenient excuse. Then we were pretty sure he looked like a Henry. But it wasn’t sitting well with my mother and so we decided on Dylan. Naively. Because when it comes to names, we think like we are in England still and thought the name wasn’t all that popular, but not too out there. Apparently, in Canada, we were completely wrong.

11 months in, I am still not convinced that he’s a Dylan, even though everyone else seems to have taken to it. For this reason, I sometimes call him Miles. Amy supports this decision, which sort of helps, but Lee just rolls his eyes and sighs at us, so I guess there won’t be a name change wrapped up in a bow for his first birthday.

And before you all think that I am so mean to call him a name that isn’t one of the three I gave him, I often look at Noah and think “Yep, you should have been a George!”. The only name I know I got right was Amy’s. And that is because you’ve never met a girl who loves their name as much.

One day, I will finish a post on Dylan’s birth story. I will include all of the milestones that he has hit way too early and how crazy it has been having a ‘little’ baby compared to my previous two beasts. There will be talk of babies somersaulting out of vaginas and dusky face, as well as unnecessary antibiotics and extended hospital stay that I am still very bitter about.

For now, it will remain at almost 700 words in my Draft folder, collecting virtual dust while I still try to get to grips that there are 5 of us in this house. Three of whom call me Mama.

So I apologise in advance of you, Dylan, growing up and wondering why you didn’t get the same as your brother and sister. My intentions were good, my execution SUCKED. It is a running theme with me. Apologies for that too.

Now, I am going to cuddle up next to you and enjoy my living, breathing cuddly toy and sleep until you head butt me in the mouth to let me know that you are hungry. Or poke me in the mouth and laugh and laugh and laugh until I am ready to cry and your daddy has to step in before my last, very frayed, thread of sanity fully snaps and takes you for a walk to the front door. Or maybe, just maybe you’ll sleep through.

2 Responses to “Slightly More Than Fashionably Late”
  1. Eleisa says:

    Hey Kirsten, I JUST discovered your blog and think its the cutest … Thanks for opening your heart and home to us …

  2. Cathy says:

    Welcome back Kirsty!! and “Dylan” is a perfect name! Parenting is a job where you constantly question yourself but have faith – you are doing a wonderful job with my “great” nephews and niece…love them and love you too!

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