Warning:
I say the word penis a lot in this blog post. See? I just said it. I have the ovaries to do it, too.
The following is to be sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree.
O Circumcision O Circumcision
You are mean to boys penises!
O Circumcision O Circumcision
There's no point to your existence!
You take what God gave little boys
And cut it off, makes me say, "Oi!"
O Circumcision O Circumcision
You are mean to boys penises!
Yesterday an old friend of mine, Jen Gordon, posted the following article on her Facebook page.
Here is a small snippet of it:
"My wife and I were concerned that our son might one day develop an ear infection, and our research indicated that, although extremely rare, it is possible for an ear infection to lead to more serious health problems ... so, just hours after he was born, we had a doctor cut off his ears.
Completely insane, right? Then can someone please tell me how it ever became “routine” for parents to have part of their newborn sons' penises lopped off?"
I LOVED IT. It very succintly summed up why I've always been against circumcision unless it's absolutely medically necessary. I read it aloud to Zack and he said,
"It's hard to argue with such well put logic."
And this little discussion reminded me that I haven't shared how Hawke ended being called Hawke.
This will all tie together, I promise.
Shortly after I found out I was pregnant with Hawke, and we still didn't know what he was going to be, ( I mean, we knew he was going to be a baby but what KIND had yet to be determined) Zack and I began the fun times of determining what we were going to call this baby for the rest of its LIFE.
I already had the girls name picked out. There wasn't a need to pick out a boys name in my mind because I KNEW that God was going to give me a girl.
Dahlia Kathleen Arias.
Done and Done.
Zack suggested, gently, that we should probably come up with some little male names, too. Just in case. I remember he was driving, I was in the passenger seat, the boys all in the back of our big ol' conversion van. It was sometime in October, around a year ago now, and we were headed to Helen, Georgia.
Why?
'Cause. What could be better than driving to a small, over rated, Germanishly influenced decor, self described "Mountain Beauty with a touch of Bavaria" tourist trap when you're 13 weeks pregnant?
"Boy names! Great! Right!", I began to joke around. "Let's see...you have your two spies. Caleb and Joshua and I only have one bird! Phoenix! So, we should have another bird name."
Zack chuckled as I began to spout off different kinds of birds.
"How about Eagle?... Cardinal?... Falcon?... Robin?....Hawk?... Griffin?...", I trailed off as Zack looked at me and said,
"OOOOH! Hawk! I love that."
I looked at him increduously.
"I was joking. As in not being serious. As in kidding."
"No, really! I love the name, Hawk! We can put him in tree bark diapers and teach him how to hunt for his own food."
We laughed. I thought that it was done.
It wasn't.
We found out that we were having a boy on December 5th. On Zack's birthday to be precise. I had the ultrasound tech seal up the results without telling me if it was an innie or an outie and surprised Zack at his party with all of our family and friends around us and he opened it up while we all waited with bated breath.
"Well, it would appear that I make boys!"
I cried. But just for a little bit. (Now I can't imagine Hawke being a girl. He is so perfectly perfect. But at the time I so had my heart set on having a girl...)
So then the name hunt began in earnest. Some of you may remember some of the names we were throwing around.
Atticus.
Oscar.
Quinn.
Beckett. (my favourite)
And...Hawk was still on Zack's list.
After one of our pre-natal visits our midwife brought up the issue of circumcision.
"Here are some articles about it for you to look over and read. I personally don't recommend it but everyone has different thoughts about this."
"Oh, we're not going to circumcise him! Not even an issue!", I crowed.
Zack looked at me askance.
"We're not?"
Our midwife looked at both of us and said,
"Looks like you have a discussion ahead of you."
For a couple of weeks Zack and I went back and forth about the issue of whether or not we should leave our sons penis alone or not. Back and forth and back and forth.
It all culminated on December 23, 2008. We were in a TJ Maxx in Buckhead doing some last minute Christmas shopping and we had been HEATEDLY discussing our unborn child's penis and the state we thought we he should be allowed to exist with it in for the REST OF HIS LIFE. Things had gotten intense a couple of times. We simply could not come to an agreement on it. While in TJ Maxx Zack walked over to a rack of baby coats, all orange in colour, picked one up and said,
"Awwwww. Look! How cute!"
Now, this threw me a bit because up to this point Zack had never oooohed and aaaaahed over baby clothes. He's just not that kind of a guy. So I walked over very curious to see what was illiciting such a response from him.
"Look, it says Hawke and Company on it. Hawke! With an "e"!"
"Hmmm. Hawke with an "e". That's kind of cool."
And then, from out of nowhere, I had an epiphany right there in TJ Maxx.
"I'll make you a deal, Zack."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"I'll give you the name Hawke if you give me my son's foreskin."
Zack laughed, "Like, in a box? Okay!"
"NO! You know what I mean. I'll agree to the name Hawke if you agree to let him remain...intact."
Zack stood there rocking back and forth thinking about my proposition.
He sucked in air between his teeth,
"Geez. Hmmm. Okay. You have a deal."
Right then and there we shook on it. And just like that our son had the name, and the penis, he would have for the rest of his life.
I'll save the story for how he got the middle name, "Danger", for another time.
So, there you have it, folks.
I am going to go get ready for Zack and I's date night.
And kiss this guy hanging out in his bouncy seat, too.
