Not a boggart!

Well, it turns out that that thing rattling my insides was indeed a baby, and not a boggart at all.  Ian seems to have a definite opinion about everything.  (It's like he's my son, or something.)  When frustrated, he lets out a piercing shriek to inform the world that it must bend to his will before resuming his concentrated efforts at achievement.  He makes the most thoughtful faces and has a habit of raising one index finger as though trying to get everyone's attention for pronouncements of great import.  He and I spent our time in the hospital reading Harry Potter, which hopefully balanced out his father reading to him about the rape and plunder committed by the conquering Roman army as commanded by Ceasar.  He's had a busy four days, what can I say.

My mother has stated that it is her unbiased opinion that, although there were a lot of babies at that hospital, ours is really the best one.  Thanks to everyone for all your best wishes.  We are excited to be home and I really am feeling very well, all things considered.