We were going to name you August. You were due on 8.8.08, the luckiest date in the Chinese calendar. When my waters broke early morning, I knew you had other plans. You were 10 days early, and about 1.5 kilos too light.
After the emergency caesar, they took you away. The nurses told me stories about small babies, and I just waved them away. How small could he be, I thought.
The recovery nurse was the first one who asked for your name. Hamish, I said. It was the only name I could remember, out of our list of possibilities.
But Hamish is a name for a big, strong man, she said in her Scottish accent.
At first you wore that strong name in the great tradition of ironic Australian names. As we watch you grow, you fit that name more and more. You being born near death taught us all so much about life.
Happy Four Hamish.