Baby Basa
My name is Basa Ellison
And, my parents asked me to introduce myself to you.
(note: not written by my dad, just using his medium account, and everything else of his and my mom’s)
My parents said that it’s important for all of us to be able to create and share stories with the world, and especially our own. They said that my story will not be theirs to tell. That this is good practice. They said a lot about why I should be doing this now, even with everything on my plate.
But they didn’t say that they would be using this time I’m taking to write to all of you to finally sleep.
Also, who knew they needed sleep?
…
Hello very tall people of the world,
After an initial and starring role as a fish inside my mother’s belly over the past nine months, I arrived as my little human self at 1:55 am this morning.
My first name is Basa.
Basa was my grandmother’s maiden name, Rosario ‘Sary’ Basa.
Basa is also the middle name that she and my grandfather gave my father, a middle name that he shared with his sister, Maria ‘Iya’ Basa Lugay.
My first name is Basa in honor of my father’s mother and sister.
With this name, my story will forever be part of their stories and their stories will be ones that I will carry forever within my own.
(Basa, also happens to be the name many of my father’s organizing friends call him, in part because of his old email address, basa@riseup.net. As a virgo, I’m supposed to be great at organizing!)
My middle name is Ellison.
My parents are silly and playful tall people, full of jokes and with a bias towards joy.
They may tell you they chose Ellison because of its beauty as a name. Or, they may share something about Ralph Ellison, and about writing and art and culture, about being and becoming more human humans. About how Basa also means “to read” in Tagalog.
But I know that they loooooove saying my name slowly, then separately … Ellison, Elli son, Ellie’s son. They love coming up with all the situations they might call me “Ellie’s son” … and they love laughing about it with each other.
My middle name is Ellison, and embedded in my name, and maybe me, is my parents’ silliness.
I am a svelte 6 lbs 9 oz, with a starting height of 19 and 3/4 inches. I have a full head of dark hair, straight for now like my father’s, but with glimmers of curl patterns like my mother’s
I’ve been told my resting face is one of concern.
As a child of Filipino, Persian and Mexican descent, born during the year of the COVID pandemic, red skies and more climate change, and this country’s re-ignited racial reckoning, plus, add on top of that, being born on September 11th, it’s true, I got some concerns. But I know we’ll deal with those later, and together.
Speaking of dates, and of my name meaning “to read,” my birth date is heavily book-ended.
Book-ended by love:
Two days prior, September 9th, is the day my parents exchanged vows at San Francisco City Hall. Three days after my birthday, September 14th, is the date they wed with vows that were their own and celebrated their love with their community at the abandoned 16th Street Station in Oakland. Both just one year ago.
And, book-ended by life:
Three days before my birthday, September 8th, is my father’s sister’s birthday. She would have been 42 this year. And one week from today, on September 18th, will mark eight years since their mother passed.
My arrival fits tightly between love and life.
I am still learning about being considerate of others, including my parents, still learning about being generous and about my giving side.
Here’s my first ever attempt at gratitude:
Shout out to the nurses who made my arrival yesterday possible. For checking in on my heart and for leading with theirs. My parents said hospitals can be hard places, but I only know how our nurses made my first one a night of sharing and collecting stories, stories like how my parents met, stories of how the nurses’ own children were introduced to the world and even their own stories about themselves. Once I finally arrived, or, I guess, once I was finally delivered to the party, all the nurses told me that they loved my name so much. I also think they loved that my name was chosen to honor a powerful nurse, just like them.
Big ups to all my family following along. I wanted you there as much as you wanted to be there, especially you, Lupe. From what I heard, your love is as fresh as your karate, and my parents said that that means very fresh and incredibly strong. Don’t worry about not being here. None of this is loss. I don’t even know anything other than today. It will all only be new and beautifully different and wonderfully perfect beginnings. Let’s meet soon, ok?
And, of course …
Thank you, momma.
I love you. Your love is the first emotion I ever felt, and will be the most familiar feeling I’ll ever know. Your love is my water.
I can only hope I’m entering a tall people world where everyone deserves and receives the same abundant love you’ve shown me, full of strength and resolve and dimples.
You were a star yesterday. Everyone said so. But, mom, not one of those twinkly little stars everyone sings so much about, but the biggest and brightest and best star in all the hospitals, and all the worlds, and all the universes, ever, in the whole history of time, even before rainbow colored dinosaurs. I’m so proud to be yours, to be “Ellison,” and proud to be the newest and cutest member of those dynamic and vibrant and deeply loving Hernandez and Dehghan families. I have a feeling that they’re going to love me lots.
Well, tall people, that’s me in a swaddle. If you want to know more, or if you just want to stare at me and play with my tiny fingers, sign up for a childcare appointment with either one of my tall helpers.
With love,
Basa Ellison
p.s. Here’s the audible version of this introduction that my dad had me film for you:
p.p.s. Now, ummm, feed me, please, mom? It’s been at least an hour. Also tell dad to “get his butt over here” (I am Ellie’s son, after all) and change my diaper already!
