My last born holds a special place in my heart because she's my baby and my only daughter. But her first year was difficult for me because she was colicky as I've explained here.
My middle child holds a special place in my heart for other reasons entirely. I worried my whole pregnancy how I could possibly hold and give the same amount of love for another child that I did for my first. The idea was inconceivable to me. I worried that it wouldn't be possible to divide my love and attention. But when this middle child of mine entered our world it all became instantly clear. Your love isn't divided. It's multiplied.
I worried that having two children so close together in age would be very difficult. A toddler and an infant. But this child was so easy and content that I felt silly for worrying.
This whole second experience was just so much better than the first. In every aspect.
My pregnancy was more comfortable because I only gained 40 pounds instead of 75.
His birth was a piece of cake. I had hoped to try for a VBAC but after 15 hours of labor and no progress I simply asked for a C-Section & he was born. On his due date. Groundhogs Day. I was awake for the birth this time. I didn't freak out on the operation table this time. I held him, nursed him, bonded with him immediately instead of 8 hours later.
This baby's dimples captured my heart in seconds. He's my only child to have inherited those gorgeous dimples from my father's side of the family.
This second born son held a special place in my heart the instant he entered our world. He nursed instantly and easily. My goal was to nurse him until he was sleeping through the night. He was sleeping through the night at 6 weeks and I stopped producing enough for him. It was an unplanned weening. I never went through the engorgement and pain of weening. It just happened. Easy.
He never cried. And when I say "never" I truly mean "never". He'd let out a little whimper every now and then when he was hungry but that was it. My mother thought there was something wrong with him and thought I should ask the doctor about it because "it's just not natural for a baby to not cry."
When he'd finish nursing at night he'd fall instantly to sleep. There was no dinner/evening time bewitching hours for this one.
He was the only one of my infants to let me rock him to sleep. I could sit and rock him for hours and he would just stare at me and smile. He was my only cuddler. Content to just be in my arms. And yet, if I put him in his crib awake? He'd fall asleep all on his own without a sound or complaint.
He was a perfect baby. The happy and easy infant that every mom dreams of having. If all my babies had been this easy I probably would have ended up with ten kids.
It's 10 years later to the day and he still manages to squeeze my heart daily with his dimply smile and happy-go-lucky eager to please ways. He's got just a touch of my hard headed stubbornness. That stubbornness makes me want to pull my hair out some days....but it mostly just makes me smile. He's my sweet one. The one that will still cuddle with me on occasion. The one that is very stingy with the kisses but gives one hell of a hug. The one that notices when I've gotten a hair cut and compliments me when he likes what I'm wearing. He's the one that offers helpful tips when needed and who's teachers adore him. He's the one that is learning to cope with sensory integration over load and over came his delayed speech and now gets straight As. He's the one that is hoping to get two more card markings of straight As so that he can get the Faux-hawk I promised him *God help me*. He makes us laugh with his goofy ways and sense of humor (only Dreamy could hurt himself on the bathroom faucet while trying to get a good look at his wedgie in the mirror). He makes us (and himself) giggle with his Monk-like OCD ways. He's obsessed with the TV show Monk for a reason. He understands Monk. He "gets" Monk.
And he's the one that tends to get slightly shafted because of where he falls in this family line up. Today is his birthday. Today, as tradition dictates, I should be pulling him out of school and taking him out to lunch for his birthday. But Smurfette decided to vomit in her bed last night and had to stay home from school today. Did Dreamy get upset? No. Did he complain or put up a fight? No. He said "It's OK Mom, we'll go tomorrow."
I love this child more than words can say.
Happy 10th Birthday Dreamy. You've finally made it to the double digits!
New Born Hospital photo:
6 months old:
18 months old: