Getting born is no fun. After spending nine months (give or take) in a nice, cozy apartment, in soothing darkness, with a direct line of feeding… you get evicted! You get pushed through a narrow opening, in blinding light, into the hands of some strange people in scrubs.

I came out - like most babies do - with a squished head and purple skin. Luckily (for him), Daddy had read about it in one of his expectant father books, so he didn’t freak out when he saw me. He even managed to cut my cord, which is quite a feat for someone as squeamish as he is.

Once out, I got to spend some time with Mommy. Apparently these days that’s how babies get to spend their first hour on the outside: lying down on Mommy’s chest, trying to make sense of what just happened. Afterwards I got cleaned, measured and swaddled.

Daddy was the line of contact to the outside world, texting and emailing with the grandparents, my aunt and some family friends. They wanted to know everything: my height (20in / 50.8cm), my weight (7lb 6oz / 3.35kg), my Apgar scores (first 8, then 9) and, of course, my name.

Speaking of my name, Mommy and Daddy sure took their time deciding on it. They went over some lists, wrote down some names they liked, but didn’t have anything set in stone. After all, they thought they had two more weeks to make up their minds, but I wasn’t planning on waiting that long.

Some of the names on the list were Romanian, some were from all over the world. Daddy wanted a Romanian first name, as his side of the family isn’t too fond of foreign ones. They also wanted a name that would be easy to spell here in the US (just ask Daddy how may times his name gets misspelled, even when he writes it down himself).

Throughout the day Daddy tried to breach the subject, but Mommy was dealing with contractions and was in no mood for debating names. Which means that when I finally popped out, they still weren’t decided.

Later, while getting some rest, Mommy asked Daddy to write down some combinations of the names they liked, and they’d pick one that sounds nice. Daddy could have written down on paper (or anything) some combinations or he could have coded a script to generate all possible variations. I’ll let you guess which one he did.

In the end, Mommy favored the A-starting names and Daddy decided on my middle name (which was also considered to be a first name). The winning name was picked!

Whimpering like a puppy

Throughout the day Mommy tried to feed me a few times, but this being a new thing for both of us, didn’t quite work as planned. Can’t complain much, at least I got boobies stuffed in my face.

I was fairly quiet through the night, even during my first bath. I tried to sleep in the morning as well, but a lot of doctors came to poke and prod me. Not fun. Mommy kept trying to feed me every hour, but I would just latch and fall asleep.

In the afternoon we got a visit from the maternity ward’s resident photographer and I got a photo shoot. If I ever become a model, I can safely say I started my carrer at one day old. Still, I mostly slept through it.

It was all feeding and sleeping since then. At some point in the evening, Mommy finally caught a break and took a bath. Daddy roamed the hospital halls like a zombie, looking for some food.

I was fussy during the night, so both Mommy and Daddy took turns with me. They also learned how to swaddle me properly from one of the nurses. It took them a few tries.

My future pediatrician came to see me in the morning, along with a lactation specialist to teach Mommy how to feed me properly. Eventually I did start eating but shortly after I fell asleep on the job again. They woke me up and after a few tries I finally just went for it. Mommy said I suck like a vampire, which - considering my heritage - shouldn’t surprise anyone.

After noon, Daddy and Mommy got the discharge papers, got me in the the car seat and we got ready to leave. My time in the maternity ward was over. It’s time to explore the world!