My nephew.

This is Baby Dan. Or Dan Jr. Or D.J. We really don't right now what to call him. This photo was taken when he was about an hour old. My mom had us unwrap him from his blankets so that we'd be able to see his feet. Upon seeing his feet, my mom cooed. Upon seeing the Tigger on his diaper, my mom cooed. Upon seeing his arm move, she ... , well, you get the idea.



OK, so I know I'm holding the baby wrong, and he did try to let me know with this little silent cry that thankfully didn't grow into a louder one. I didn't want to be the one person who held the baby on his first day who made him cry. I did support his head, but Baby Dan's head is really big. I mean, he was a really big baby when he was born, anyway, but his head is particularly big.

This was the baby when he was only a couple hours old. He was cute. I got to whisper "Happy Birthday" to him and kiss him on the forehead. That made me happy. (Yes, I was happy. I admit it. Someone, take note of this occasion.)

I went to the hospital tonight to maybe see him again, but he's in the NICU on an IV because his blood-sugar levels were all crazy after the first night. He couldn't keep down the formula he was drinking, which startled everyone.

Last I heard, though, he was able to keep down the soy formula they gave him this afternoon, so they might be able to wean him off the IV over the weekend.

Still, this whole IV thing has led me to distraction. I want the baby with his parents. I want the baby eating. I want to learn how to properly hold him. I want to figure out what we should nickname him.

I'm thinking D.J., but it's still up in the air.