Arrival of the Little Man

As is the case with so many events in Mexico, the arrival date of Félix’ new baby was only a rough estimate, with a variance of one to four weeks. He and his wife had consulted with three doctors, who predicted delivery anywhere from the first week of November to sometime in the middle of December. I told Félix that although I didn’t know much about birthin’ babies, those estimates seemed somewhat sloppy.

The only thing the doctors agreed on was that the baby would be delivered by Caesarean section. I suggested to Félix that he ask the doctors why so, but they just gave him an explanation he didn’t understand. So a C-section it was going to be and he was told he needed to round up two blood donors before the operation.

Stew donated one pint and Stew’s brother, who was visiting from Minnesota, offered to donate the second pint. Why didn’t Félix donate the second pint? Pssst: He’s scared to death, and so apparently is everyone is family. Félix rather melodramatic explanation was that he had been rejected as a donor because “his defenses were down” and he might need a transfusion himself if he donated. Or some such cockamamie story. Finally, he rounded up a friend to be the second donor.  

Stew and I went to Peru for a week and left Stew’s brother Knute in charge of the animals, the house and keeping track of the imminent, or not so imminent, arrival of Félix’ baby. Though Félix fancies himself a what-me-worry, cool as a stale enchilada type of guy, he was visibly worried about the arrival of the baby.

The baby boy arrived on November 8, a mite weighing 2.232 kilos or 4.9 pounds. That’s small, but so is Felix’ wife, who couldn’t weigh more than 100 to 110 pounds herself. The baby and the mom were sent home two days later, and I took Ysela–and Felix, their two-year-old daughter and his tough-as-nails mother-in-law–to the local clinic to have the stitches taken out last week.

Shortly after the birth Knute began asking for the baby’s name but Felix didn’t seem to be in a hurry. When I asked Felix, he just said it was just an hombrecito, “a little man.” I didn’t expect the impassive Félix to jump up and down with joy but he was clearly pleased with the new baby, and also that it was an hombrecito rather than another girl.

It wasn’t until this past weekend, when I went to their house to photograph the baby, that the new name was revealed: Edgar. I acted supportive but in my head wondered where that name had come from. Edgar Allan Poe? Felix insisted that he didn’t know, that it was just a name he’d heard and liked.

Besides the three saints on the birthday, which some Mexican families use to name babies, were Martín, Severino and some other weird-sounding guy. Edgar sounds pretty good by comparison.

Officially registering the baby birth, which Félix still hasn’t done, will take another trip to City Hall and the attendant paper shuffling. Maybe days, or perhaps a few more weeks. Baptism is not even in the prospective schedule yet.

The important thing right now is that the tiny baby is healthy and naturally, cute as can be.

2 thoughts on “Arrival of the Little Man

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