the elusive oliver fern
Oliver Fern has been home for little more than a week, now. He’s doing well and we’re doing okay. I took the picture below this morning, it’s a reflection shot of him in a Baby Bjorn (the uber-popular child carrier that straps across your chest). This was the beginning of a pleasureful-long four hour nap.
Oliver Fern was born on the Fourth of July right on Capitol Hill, at Group Health Hospital. He was 8 pounds, 11 ounces. He was named for his maternal grandmothers (Olive and Azalea Fern). Diana started having contractions late on Tuesday night the 3rd. She and I spent part of the night walking back and forth on a flat section of our neighborhood: We’ll remember that walk for the scrawny alley cat that followed us everywhere. He’d stop and sit expectantly at our feet when Diana had to stand still for a particularly painful contraction. He finally trailed us home, where we tried to feed him some of Lucy’s food out on the front porch but he was clearly insulted at the idea of consuming dog food. We were forced to shoo him away when it became obvious he only wanted to get into the house.
Diana took this picture of me holding Oliver on the back porch. It was his second evening at home. A nurse in the maternity department made little 4th of July hats for all the babies born that day.