Wednesday night at 10:27 PM (CST), Sebastian James was born to Helena and Daniel in Minneapolis.
His middle name is for my father. All are doing well now, albeit exhausted. He's my sister's first grandchild; my mother's second great grandson. All three granddaughters are five years apart and now two great grandsons are five years apart. Of course we will be teasing my second niece, the third granddaughter and unattached yet at 25 years old, that she's got five years to produce a son, by whatever means suits her! She's shown no interest in having kids, so we may have to expand the definitions somewhat.
Finally had to do a Caesarean after 30 hours of labor and 60 hours of no sleep. At times like Wednesday night, keeping vigil for all concerned, remembering so clearly every minute that led up to the still birth of my son, Huckleberry in 1972 at eight months, and musing on ancesstresses who might have died in labor in Sweden, in the American south and midwest, I have one of my no doubt Lunatic Notions on the origins of war and our seeming inability to live without war:
Somewhere along the line, men observed the terror and courage, the blood and the bonding of women in labor and delivery and decided war was the only way they could prove themselves the equal of the bravery manifested over and over again by their women.
Be well all. I miss being here more, but all things in the fullness of time.