The process of baptism
My sister had her first baby last week.
A precious little baby boy.
It feels great to be able to call myself aunt.
It does have a nice ring to it.
When this little fella finally decided to make an appearance in the world, after almost two weeks over due, he didn’t yet have a name.
I’ve always thought it must be a quite hard decision as a parent to put a name on a face they’ve just seen for the first time.
I mean, a name is the first step in the process of creating your own identity, isn’t it?
How do you then know that this particular name is the one to make the first mark on a life long journey?
I’ve been told though, that seeing your baby for the first time can turn a decision into a certainty.
“This is you.”
“Of course it’s you!”
“Oh how much we love you for being you.”
During the same week as aunty Elins little baby opened his eyes for the first time, our class got assigned to name our own baby.
A new born, famous, hermaphrodite and loyal baby whose name should be a reflection of how its first year will play out.
I wish I could say that this one was of certainty, but unfortunately it’s not.
The baby we’re naming is us.
I believe we all thought it would be easier than predicted, and seeing the face (brief) for the first time would make the names come rolling in.
Maybe the problem is that we haven’t actually been born yet.
We are still so attached to the (Marc’s) umbilical cord and we’re still waiting impatiently to see when life hits us.
When the time will come, and hopefully it does in the next few days or so, it’s hopefully going to be a “Holy crap moment”, as Dave Birss say.
And then what are we going to do?
Nurture the hell of that baby.