Ever wanna see a baby Aardvark?
Have I got a story for you. Buckle up.
I’ve been “Abu Aardvark” since 2003. I chose the name as a combination of my deep love for the 300 issue epic comic book series Cerebus the Aardvark, an unwittingly savvy move to occupy the top slot on everyone’s blog roll (that used to be a thing), and a testament to my then newborn daughter (who arrived just as the US invaded Iraq, which also used to be a thing for my old school blog). The original eponymous aardvark is now a junior in college. But today, I’ve got an epic new Abu Aardvark update for you.
Ever wonder what a baby aardvark looks like?
See, I had quite the surprise last weekend. And I want to share it with everyone who has opted to subscribe to this newsletter and must presumably care at least a little bit. If you don’t want personal news, that’s fine — just delete this email now and go on with what I hope is a lovely weekend. I’ll have a new book review essay and MENA political science content next week, I promise!
So, here’s the story. Buckle up. I got home from the Frantz Fanon workshop in Tunisia late Friday afternoon. I knew that I wouldn’t have much time to relax at home, though. Sunday was “play day” for my daughter’s Kenyon College softball team. So before I could adjust time zones, I loaded my two dogs up in the car and drove to Ohio. I saw no foreboding warnings along the way, no mysterious faces groaning “go home.” My life partner Ann Marie met me there and we busily got to prepping for a little dinner party.
Over dinner, my quite visibly but only 27 weeks pregnant partner started experiencing considerable pain. It didn’t stop her from making a kick-ass apple pie in our AirBnb, but it was definitely of concern. Even more so when the contractions sped up and she found blood when she went to shower. We made some phone calls. We didn’t get the reassuring “don’t panic” responses we expected.
We rushed through the darkness and heavy fog of central Ohio to the Ohio State University hospital emergency room. They got us upstairs and checked her out. We waited. We waited some more. Then another doctor came to give a second opinion. And then, before we even had a chance to appreciate what was happening, we were preparing for an emergency C-Section, with no time to spare. Our baby was breech and she was coming now whether we were ready or not. We had been waiting until the third trimester to tell most people about the baby. We never got there.
It’s hard to describe the fear and anxiety that grips your heart when you learn that your child is about to come three months early. You think about every time you wished the baby would just come already, every flickering annoyance or foreboding over how she could complicate your life. But you don’t actually have time to think. You become a non-player character in someone else’s game. It doesn’t feel great. But it’s something so see.
I’ve rarely seen anything like the coordination of the doctors and nurses in an emergency premature delivery. So many people, working together like a well synchronized machine attending to every detail. It’s hard to really believe the medical technology that is in play. Shout out to the incredible OSU team - my daughter’s a Buckeye now. These nurses, these doctors, without them my baby would have died. They saved her. Nothing could be a more important accomplishment — get the fuck out with your top 5 impact factor publications. This is God-tier.
And then there she was, all swaddled and incubated. We couldn’t hold her at first. She couldn’t come home. She had to struggle for the smallest things. But she survived and now she is thriving. Little Hazel Marie is doing well, a few days in, a beautiful little girl who is the delight of the NIC unit (I’m sure the nurses don’t say that to EVERY parent!). She arrived at 2 pounds, 5 ounces and less than 14 inches long. She wasn’t due until December 31. We weren’t ready. She wasn’t ready. The OSU maternity team? They were ready. I’ll never forget how ready they were. It’s hard to express how thankful I am for how well she’s doing or how deeply I love our little peanut.
I’m sorry I’ve fallen behind on book reviews and essays. But they will return shortly. I’ll sustain the blog and everything just fine, once we all settle in the new realities - normal posting will resume next week. I’ve done this twice before! Granted, this one is different. We’ve had to relocate to live in a new city with no advance notice, while continuing to do what needs to be done back home. But it’s fine. Columbus OH is a good city. Ohio State is a great university. OSU is an exceptional hospital for premature babies. And, most important, we have a healthy and happily growing little girl. It’s all good. Just, be understanding if I fall behind on my posting. I’m doing my best!
Just saying… if you’ve ever considered a paid subscription, this would be a good time - just imagine how much baby aardvarks eat! Subscribe if you want to support our journey. Maybe I should put baby pictures behind an paywall? I dunno. Jusr celebrate with me as we welcome a delightful new life into our world. She’s going to knock your socks off - trust me!