When Ellis Met Grandpa

Photo Credit: Rod Moser

I waited three weeks to see him, mostly to avoid the chaos that a new baby creates in the family. The grandmothers were there, an uncle, the uncle's girlfriend, the other grandfather, and an assortment of friends and neighbors - too many people. I knew he was healthy and I saw his picture (actually, a hundred or so pictures) that were posted on the Internet by the proud parents. When I finally did meet my grandson, I felt I already knew him.

Ellis lives with his new parents about 9-10 hours away by car. My wife and I like to drive when we can so that we can create our own schedule. So, we both canceled some previously-scheduled patients (we hate to do this, but all of my patients know this is important) and took off at 5 AM. I love driving early in the mornings before traffic starts. It is quiet; the stars are out, and besides, I am awake anyway. For some reason, as I have aged, I tend to require less sleep, which is contrary to what others might experience. I would love to sleep for eight hours, but my body simply refuses.

We live in Northern California in the Sierra foothills, so the quickest route south is through the Central Valley. This time of year, the valley is just awakening with all of the fruit and nut trees blooming. In contrast to the boring scenery most of the year, springtime in the Central Valley is beautiful. There was even some snow on the Grapevine - a high pass out of the valley into the Los Angeles area.

Perhaps it was my anxiety about meeting my grandson, but I made "good time" on the route south, hitting the highly-congested LA traffic just right. An hour later and I would be sitting in a slowly-moving parking lot.

We arrived at our hotel promptly at 2 PM, their check-in time. Of course, the room was not ready. Exhausted from the long drive, we waited...and waited. They offered us a smaller room (for the same price, of course), but I chose to wait. After about an hour, they offered me a room normally reserved for handicapped guests. I refused; just like I refuse to use the handicapped stall in the restroom. What if someone came in and needed it? I agreed to the smaller room.

Of course, the hotel was being remodeled - just my luck. The smaller room reeked of fresh paint to the point of utter nausea. The window was open to air it out, but of course, that looked out on the freeway. They offered to bring an ozone machine, but told me that we could not be in the room while it was running! Should we camp out in the hall? They offered the handicapped room again. This time, I accepted. At 8 AM the following morning, I regretted that decision, too. The workman in the room next door where apparently setting up a saw mill and had a hammering contest. Nice place. This will be the last time I will stay there, of course. The front desk offered to reduce our room rate. I saved ten dollars!

Ellis had no idea what we went through to see him. We drove to my son's house. He had mistakenly given me the name of the wrong hotel, so it was about another half hour away. We passed the hotel that he really intended to tell us about a mile or so from their home. Don't feel bad for me. A lot of our trips are like this. I sort of expect it now.

We knocked lightly on the door so that we would not wake up the baby. A cacophony of barking dogs followed. If Ellis was sleeping, he is awake now. My son and his wife have two young Boston Bull Terriers that are not noted for their quiet demeanor. They were jumping and barking, in spite of their bark collars. Like many new couples, they often get dogs to see if they will be capable of being good parents. Those dogs are pampered (not literally). Later, I wish they were in Pampers. They were the Farting Dogs (see my previous blog post). I had experienced my first (of many) raunchy dog farts, initially thinking it was a poopy diaper. A poopy diaper is like a flower compared to what emanates from those two dogs.

Ellis was upstairs nursing. I could hear him fussing around, but I had to patiently wait until he was finished. New mothers tend to be a bit shy when breast-feeding, as they should. Breast-feeding is natural and beautiful, but it does not have to be a public performance.

We brought Ellis a blanket that was handmade and embroidered by my mother - his 87 year old great-grandmother who is now in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. She made it in 1980; when my son was only two years old. Sadly, she does not know she has another great-grandchild, so we gave Ellis a picture of my late father and my mother - two of his great-grandparents.

Photo Credit: Rod Moser

My heart raced as my daughter-in-law proudly carried Ellis down the stairs. There he was; satiated and bundled in a blanket. He looked just like my son, only smaller. She handed him to me; my grandson. I looked into his little eyes. He looked at me (or the ceiling fan). I smiled. I did not cry (on the outside). For the next two days, I tried to hold him as much as I could. I sang to him. We talked. Well, I talked and he listened. I really wanted to call him Elmo, my chosen nickname, but I know my daughter-in-law does not like it, so I restrained my normally-unrestrained self. Ellis will be loved.

I was proud of these new, albeit sleep-deprived, parents; this is not an easy job. Babies nurse, poop, and sleep, interspersed by crying and fussing. Sometimes, they just lie their quietly staring at nothing, perhaps wondering where in the hell they are. Their little senses are being constantly challenged with new faces, new sounds, new experiences, new things to touch, and new smells (like those dog farts).

I have three other grandchildren from my wife's lineage and prior marriage. I love them just as much, but seeing your first, biological grandchild is an unbelievable experience. When your youngest child has a child, you do feel a bit older, but that is expected. I wish we lived closer.

Today, I got my first phone call for advice and I was thrilled. They found "crystals" in his diaper and were worried. Immediately, I knew they were from the diaper, not the diaper-user.

I gave my son an otoscope and my book, Ears: An Owner's Manual. He will need it in about six months when the maternal immunity wears off and the ear infection years begin. My son is an RN; my daughter-in-law is a teacher. They will both need those complimentary skills in raising my grandson.

Photo Credit: Rod Moser

Ellis will make me take better care of myself. I want to be around a long, long time to watch him grow and hear him call me Grandpa. Grandparents are very important and I plan on being important to him and my other grandchildren. That is what grandparents are supposed to do.

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It's a BOY!

Ellis Moser and his Proud Parents

Of course, we knew he was going to be a boy months ago. There are few surprises in obstetrics anymore, unless of course, you are having a litter of septuplets that end up to be octuplets at the time of delivery. New parents are very excited when they spot the weenie on the ultrasound. In the old days, we had to wait until the baby was born to know what parts they wore. When I saw pregnant patient in those days, I would always guess the sex of their unborn baby. Surprisingly, I was right 50% of the time.

Since I am no longer in family practice, I really miss that aspect of medicine - informing a woman that she is pregnant. I would always ask during the exam, as I waited for the pregnancy test results, "What will be your reaction, if I tell you that you are pregnant today?" If they said they will be elated, I was happy. If they indicated that this would not be the best news, I would prepare myself. The greatest part of family practice was diagnosing a wanted pregnancy, and then having the privilege of watching that little baby grow up. The downside of family practice is that someday that baby may grow up and get pregnant and that this event was not anticipated.

Last Thursday, my daughter-in-law was induced about ten days before the due date. I was a little suspicious about this planned, early induction thinking the OB was just trying to get the delivery out of the way before Super Bowl Sunday. The delivery was uneventful and the baby was fine. I heard him screaming over the cell phone when I got the news. His name is Ellis.

We are glad our new grandson (my first biological grandchild) was healthy and glad he was just one, and not one of eight. I haven't seen him yet (just email pictures), but we are driving down in a few weeks when things quiet down a bit for the official "Ellis Meets the Grandparents" event. I desperately need to hold that little boy.

I talked to my son last night and the new father said that the baby cries from midnight to about three AM. I am quasi-sympathetic, because my son did that, too. Night shift with a new baby is a rite of passage. It helps to toughen up the new, sleep-deprived parents. Fortunately, both parents (and the new grandmother) are there to help him get through this initial transition.

I am glad that this wasn't a C-section. I always sympathize with the baby in this situation. Here you are...kicking back in your little dark room, when all of a sudden; a gloved hand reaches in, grabs you by the neck and pulls you out into a brightly-lit room full of noise and confusion. In my opinion, this is equivalent to me sitting in my reclining chair, when all of a sudden; someone rips a hole in the ceiling, reaches in and pulls me out. That would freak me out. I would much rather take my sweet ‘ol time "walking down the hall".

California, my adopted home state, is famous for alternative medical practices, like re-birthing experiences. I can't say that I would want to go through that again, although my memory of my first birth is nil. I am not really sure how they conduct that rebirthing thing, but I fear they may have some artificial vagina that you crawl through or something. Since I don't like caves, this would not be particularly appealing to me. I am here now. That's all that matters. I don't see how rebirthing is going to really help me in my life at this point. The "Curious Case of Benjamin Button", I am not.

I stared at those pictures of my new grandson and saw my son as a baby again. I was flooded with those wonderful memories. When you look at the face of a new baby for the first time, you see the future. A little boy with your same last name will be growing up, playing baseball, graduating college, and if you are fortunate enough to live two more decades or so, you may experience the eyes of another generation when he becomes a father. Babies represent newness and life, but sadly, they also remind us older folks that our clock is running down. I am not really worried about that clock; I am just going to enjoy the moment - the moment that I became a grandfather, and all of the years to come.

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Names and Nicknames

Growing up, we all had nicknames. There was Bird, Thumpus, Special, Getchaoutside, just to name a few. In college, nicknames were mandatory, like Alf, Hally, Charlie Trombone, Quickdraw, and Irwin. Of course, I had a nickname, too. It was a legacy, since my brother (Larry) had it first. Our nickname is Moe. My brother has a son that took over the nickname, but my son, Ryan, never fully adopted it. I even gave him my gold ring with the raised letters, MOE, on it. A few people refer to him "Mo" (without the "e").

I grew up with the Three Stooges and my favorite Stooge (if you had to pick) was Moe, the self-appointed leader. My brother's real name was Larry (Well, Rupert actually), so that seemed to be a good fit for a nickname. We didn't have a Curly, but my step-father was a spitting image of him.

In Japanese, Moe is pronounced "Moe-eh" which means "love of characters". One of our Japanese exchange students has a niece (Yes, a girl) name Moe. I was honored.

I have a grandson named Dylan, which is a nickname cornucopia. From time to time, he gets Dilly, Dill Pickle, Dilbert, or simply, Dill. The guys on his Little League team call him Dee. When he starts Junior High, I am sure there will be other names less cute or flattering.

I am pretty good at creating nicknames. I have taken my share of punches during my formative years when the nicknamed person was not as enthusiastic. I recently won the "Name the Skeleton" contest at our new Medical Museum. It immediately came to me. Her (a female skeleton) is Anna Rexia. I have such a gift.

Yesterday, I was informed that my youngest son and his wife will be having a little boy. We knew she was pregnant for several weeks now, but yesterday was the ultrasound, or as I like to call it, "The Wiener Hunt". My daughter-in-law desperately wanted a little girl, but Nature has a way of serving up surprises. They are going to have a little boy; my first biological grandson. I have three other grandchildren from my wife's lineage. My son is elated, of course. They had picked out a name well in advance of the ultrasound. Regardless of the sex, the baby will be named, Ellis. Ellis Moser.

Ellis? A very nice name; somewhat atypical, but that is what makes names unique. My son, an avid Oakland A's baseball fan, said this is the name of the second baseman, Mark Ellis. Ellis is also the name of a famous island, perhaps an entry point of some of the ancestors. The grandmother's family - intensely Catholic - emigrated from Czechoslovakia in the early 1900's, so perhaps they came through Ellis Island. My family emigrated from Germany in 1790, so we were already here; way before Ellis Island. We probably co-mingled with the Native Americans (No, not the Mo-hicans!) I do not know anything about my daughter-in-law's family ancestors, except that they are Jewish. Perhaps, they came through Ellis Island. My grandson, Ellis, of course, will be Jewish through this proud, matriarchal line.

So, it is either Mark Ellis, Ellis Island, or they just liked the name, Ellis. Either way, we are going to welcome Ellis Moser with loving arms. Is he going to have a nickname? I have no doubt whatsoever.

It can't be Elly - much too feminine. It might be Moe, but Moe is a very unusual nickname for a baby. Moe Howard of the Three Stooges was Jewish (so was Larry and Shemp), but no, that isn't going to fly. There is Moe Szyslak from the Simpson's, but he is not really a good role model for my grandson, even though he invented the Flaming Moe. There is the Pep Boys - Manny, Moe, and Jack. There is Moe-hammad? (Oops, sorry about that. Please don't issue a fatwa; it was joke.) Maybe, he can be nicknamed Elton? (Great singer and composer, but flamboyant lifestyle) Or, Elwood? (One of the Blue's Boys) How about El-beau? No, too anatomical; perhaps, too Middle Eastern. Then, it hit me! His nickname will be Elmo. In Spanish, it would be El-Moe! The Moe. I ran nickname scenarios with some of my new parents of little boys. The fathers immediately guessed "Elmo" as the most logical nickname. I would like to know what YOU think, too.

In my pediatric practice, many babies, even the unborn ones, get nicknames. An excited four-year old once told me that she was going to Scooter's doctor's visit tomorrow. Scooter was what she called the tummy-baby. That has been several years ago now. Scooter (real name, Scott) is now one my patients. The nickname stuck. Maybe that is how Scooter Libby got his name?

Elmo. Why not? My daughter-in-law is an elementary school teacher with a special education masters. Elmo the Muppet from Sesame Street is an educational icon (good dancer, too, if you tickle him). Elmo was the only Muppet to testify before the U.S. Congress, urging support for increased funding for music education.

I work in pediatrics, and we have Elmo stuff all over the place. One of the other pediatricians actually wears Elmo clothes. There was a St. Elmo (aka, St. Elmo's Fire), so this may please the Catholic side of the family. And, most of all, Elmo is a damn, cute nickname. I love it. I suspect my son will think it is funny (he shares some of my warped sense of humor) but Elmo's mother may not immediately embrace it. Every child needs a cute nickname, so I am getting my dibs in first. If I have to secretly call him Elmo, so as to not offend anyone, I will.

As I write this Blog, my nickname campaign has begun. My wife is heading for Toys R Us to get a talking Elmo doll. I asked her to make a Sesame Street quilt, with Elmo in the center, of course. I have no idea if the nickname, Elmo, is going to stick. My son hopes it will be just "E". Borrrring!

I just can't wait until February so I can tickle me a REAL Elmo.

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