We are thrilled to announce the birth of our third boy, Rye Griscom — Rye Frederic Volkman Griscom. He was born last Tuesday, October 5th, at 8:36 a.m. He weighed 8 pounds and .4 ounces, and he had not only ten fingers and ten toes, but also ten names until very close to his departure on Saturday. We are utterly elated, needless to say … we had our first breakfast this morning as a family of five, and the house felt full, fully full, in a way it hasn’t before. And of course we are sobered by the certain knowledge that with three boys under roof, we are in for it.
Here, for your amusement and edification, is a photo documentary of the grisly and beautiful series of events:
Alisa not lifting heavy objects the night before delivery.
Kissing the watermelon.
Desending to our lobby at 5:45 a.m. on the big day.
Mr. Bubble, the family patron saint, who makes getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty, looked over the birth of Rye much as he did the births of our first two sons.
- after: 8 pounds .4 ounces of Rye, born at 8:36 a.m. on October 5, 2010
Even the third time around, despite the relative sterility of the c-section experience, we were dewy-eyed fools.
Collecting our little Russian doll complete with antibiotic eye ointment.
Demonstrating his usefulness, Rye put on his game face wednesday morning for a thorough plundering of the spoils of the New York Presbyterian breakfast cart.
The incomparable softness of baby skull peach fuzz.
This photo renders me all blubbery and verklempt. I think Declan is taking in the exciting implications of a 100% increase in the population of his constituency.
Leaving Saturday morning, outnumbered.
The family at our stations Saturday morning -- Rye sleeping, Alisa making pancakes, and Dad playing with his iPhone, while the boys barracade the front door with five feet of pillows and toys. We are rediscovering the delightful false advertising that occurs in the first few weeks of a newborn's life -- lots of sleeping, nose crinkling, and assorted acts of cuteness.
Yes, like the bread, the dry humor, the town in New York. The family is still adjusting.