My Story

        I could have been named Tennison, but I blinked twice, and then I was Ealie Leiko.

     The doctor said I should arrive on or about January 8.  Doctors don’t know everything.  Why should I wait a whole year to see Santa Claus?

      The week leading up to Christmas was a busy one for my hostess and me.  In addition to family, work, and Christmas shopping, we were going to Loveland to drive around to look at Christmas lights.

     That was scheduled for Friday night.  Then we would have a quiet Christmas Eve with our family and my grandparents.  We would get together with my mom’s family on Monday, the 26^th.

      Then the way would be clear for me to show up any time before or after the New Year.

      They never consulted me.

      The first complication came with a late invite to a Christmas party from Amy and Lars up the road.  That was for Friday night, the night we were supposed to go looking at lights.

      There was a quick schedule change.  We went looking at lights on Thursday night.  Well, they did.  I couldn’t see much where I was.  Anyway, that freed up Friday to go to the party up the road.

     Come Friday, I was sending signals to my mom that I was ready to come out.  Lots of folks said to Mom, “Do you think you should be going further up the road in your condition?  You will be that much further away from the hospital.”

      Mom replied, “I know who’s on the guest list.  There will be three or four nurses, a retired Physician’s Assistant, maybe even an MD.  If anything happens at the party, I’ll be in pretty good hands.”  

     The MD didn’t show up.  His wife and son did, but he didn’t.  Nothing happened.  Except something unusual, I hear.  Mom said it was time to go.  Twice.  Usually, she’s not in a hurry to leave a party.  She’s not the first to say, “Let’s go home.”  That night, she was.

     The party started at 3 p.m.  We didn’t get there till after six.  Big brother, noisy big brother, was taking a nap at three.  So we didn’t get there very early, and Mom was ready to leave about 7:30.

    She asked Granddad and Obachan if they minded taking Big Brother with them when they went home.  She had his bags packed already.  She had her own bag packed, too.

     The grandparents either had to take the kid’s car seat out of Mom’s car and put in their car, or trade cars with Mom.  It was after eight when we all got to our home, so the elders opted to just trade cars.  Everybody was tired.  Everybody but me.  I was rarin’ to go.

     So the grandparents left with Big Brother and headed for their home.  That left Dad, Mom, and me.  I was getting itchy feet.

     Mom told Dad “We better go,” but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to wait a while longer.  Finally, Mom told Dad she HAD to go. 

     We all arrived at the emergency room about 1:30.  Dad didn’t want to park where the ambulances go, so he parked a little way off, and he and Mom walked into the emergency room.

     The emergency crew went hysterical.  They ran around and into each other.  “Give us a stabbing or a gunshot wound and we know what to do, but we don’t know nothin‘ about birthin’ no babies”, they said.  They grabbed a wheelchair and told Mom to sit.

     She said, “I can’t!  There’s a head in the way!”  Tee hee!  It was mine!

     Mom was trying to get out of her pants.  She was yelling, “Catch this baby!”  Then she did sort of sit on the edge of the wheel chair.  The nurses helped her out of her clothes and then I finished my entry into a noisy world of bright lights and cold air, and somebody did catch me.  Somebody looked at the clock and said it was 1:36 a.m. on December 24, 2016.  I beat Santa Claus.

     By then I was about tired out.  Being born is a lot of work.  They prodded and poked me and I don’t know what all, but I managed to get in some sleep.

     There was still the problem of my name.  Mom thought Tennison was good.  I really didn’t look like a Tennison.  Mom liked “Eelie”, but Obachan said the kids would call me slimy eel.  The conversation went on quite a while among the adults.

      We had a moment alone, just Dad, Mom, and me.  I was sort of looking around our room. Mom said, “If you like ‘Tennison’ blink once.  If you like “Eelie” blink twice.”  I blinked twice.  Both Mom and Dad saw me blink twice.  That was it.  I picked my own name.  Not many kids can say that, I bet. 

     But it wasn’t all solved yet.  How should we spell my name?  Obachan insisted “Eelie” would become “eel”.  French? “Illi”?  Then folks would say, “I lie?”  “Illie?”  “Eye-lee?”  “Elee” would be “LE”.

     It finally came down to “Ealie”, but that isn’t foolproof, either.  Someone saw it and said “Alee?” like a Canadian “Eh-Lee?”

     My Mom said it is a nice-sounding name, but there is no pretty way to spell it.  Maybe she’s right.  Maybe she should have asked me to blink three times if I wanted to wait until I was 16 to spell it.

     You have to have a birth certificate to get out of the hospital, and a birth certificate has to have a name on it, spelled out.  So I am Ealie Leiko.  And that’s where it will stand until I am old enough to change my name all by myself.

    And that’s my story, for now.