Early this February I made my eldest son, Ian (11 Years old) very happy by FINALLY!!! (emphasis original) giving him a brother.
We’ve named the most recent manchild for Isaac of Ninevah. A few other Isaacs crept into consideration as well. (We’d been having some fun with a certain foundation trilogy.)
A few months before Isaac was conceived, I was coming up on 5 years of infertility, due to a disease I couldn’t even afford to have diagnosed. One day I told my husband Josh that I believed myself to be dying. He wept – a thing he almost never does. He said, forcing the words out, “I don’t want you to die.” I took it as permission to live. Sometimes one borrows a little willpower from a willing donor. I did what little I could to improve my health: spent too much on nutritious food, drank moonlight in spring-water from a silver-colored cup, etc. I felt these efforts to be more in the line of a good-faith stewardship commitment than a real solution.
A little while later I was standing at prayer and I experienced what seemed to be a miraculous healing of some kind. I am sure it was someone else’s prayers that were taken into consideration. I was praying about money. God, it seems, was more concerned about an oddly shaped mass tunneling its way down from my right breast to my right ovary. Father of orphans indeed.
My fertility returned and I was able to conceive Isaac, my miracle baby. When they plopped him purpley on my chest and rubbed him into a first cry I laughed in delight. Isaac means “laughter.” Sarah, the patriarch Abraham’s wife, named her Isaac for a different sort of laughter but I think it still works.
Isaac adores his daddy, which is a solid return, I think, on his daddy’s having played some part in saving his mama’s life. Josh thinks so, anyhow. Naturally the little lad gets a big kick out of his two siblings as well.
Today he ate his first solid food and wept with joy. For too long, he seems to feel, the other members of the family have had all the gustatory fun. His first word was “hungry.” He pronounces it, “Ha! Ung! GWEE-GWEE-GWEE!!!” (Emphasis original.)
My husband is extremely proud because our family is now above population replacement level. We will play no part in handing the culture over to some less friendly religion or some less pious certitude – at least not by mere attrition.
Josh chose the middle name Sebastian because it indicates honor and dignity. I chose the second middle name Solomon because I feel someone in the family should experience some prosperity. Perhaps a little popularity with the ladies. That latter, I feel, shouldn’t be too difficult to achieve, especially with the prophet-king’s blessing. The child is enormous – bursting out of clothes meant for children three times his age – and has a cleft chin.
It’s a rather good life at present, although I fancy it will be another two months before I can return to my work full-time, and I’m already cooking up a plan, which horrifies my husband but excites me as nothing else has done in a long time, to live in campgrounds around the country and save the rent and utility money for more interesting uses.
In the meantime, I planted an herb garden into which I sneaked a few tomatoes, peas, cucumbers and cantaloupes. I have three gardens, including a wild violet garden that was quite difficult to establish, and they keep me almost sane. Isaac and I inspect them carefully ever morning on our daily walk. Daily walks are important for bright children from poor families. They tend to spend about quadruple the time screaming about being bored as they do about hunger, tiredness, gas, full diapers, and bee stings combined.
Come to think of it, so do I. A pox on whomever invented bourgeois housekeeping standards. BORING!!! (Emphasis mine.)