Say hello to my son, Benedict Joseph

Say hello to my son, Benedict Joseph

My son, Benedict Joseph, was born today at 11:44am at Caritas Norwood Hospital. He was 7lb 9oz, which is the exact weight that Isabella was when she was born. Melanie and Benedict are doing okay. This was the most painful surgery for Melanie, but she’s bouncing back quicker. Benedict is sleeping a lot and nursing a lot. The girls and their grandma and aunt are on the way here now so I’ll soon have pictures of that introduction, but until then here are the first photos.


This is Benedict just moments after he was born. He’s on the scale here.


The proud father and his son.


Already thinking deep thoughts.


Mother and son.


Today is also the feast of St. Ephrem the Syrian. In 2007, Pope Benedict devoted a Wednesday general audience to this saint who was both a theologian and a poet, which is quite funny considering that I studied theology in school and Melanie studied poetry (and other literature). Anyway, he was also known for his hymns, including On The Nativity of Christ, which I thought was especially suitable today:

“The Lord entered her and became a servant; the Word entered her, and became silent within her; thunder entered her and his voice was still; the Shepherd of all entered her; he became a Lamb in her, and came forth bleating.

“The belly of your Mother changed the order of things, O you who order all! Rich he went in, he came out poor: the High One went into her [Mary], he came out lowly. Brightness went into her and clothed himself, and came forth a despised form….

“He that gives food to all went in, and knew hunger. He who gives drink to all went in, and knew thirst. Naked and bare came forth from her the Clother of all things [in beauty]” (Hymn De Nativitate 11: 6-8).

And speaking of scriptural comfort, the midafternoon prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours included Psalm 127—which happens to be one of my favorites and particularly apt today:

Lo, sons are a heritage from the LORD,
the fruit of the womb a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior
are the sons of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has
his quiver full of them!
He shall not be put to shame
when he contends with his foes at the gate.

I’ve started filling my quiver.