I do a lot of my thinking at night. Those moments right before sleep hits, as I listen to my husband breathing beside me and curl around our baby who has finally stopped kicking me in the bladder. I think about what he's going to look like, if he'll look like his daddy did as a baby, with a mop of red hair and big brown eyes and freckles, or if he'll look more like I did, chubby cheeks, blue eyes and a big bald head, or if he'll be the perfect mixture of both of us like his big brother, curled up with his stuffed lamb in the next room. I wonder about mundane things like when he'll sleep through the night and if he will need to supplement with formula and if he will be allergic to Pamper's like Paxton is. I also wonder about things that matter. Will he be a sweet kid? Will his big brother love him and protect him? Will he want to make us proud? Will I be able to love him as much as I love his brother?
I've done this once before, so I know the second I see that red, wrinkled face and those perfect little hands, I'll be his mommy. I know exactly what emotions will overcome me as he is placed on my chest that first time and as I watch his Daddy cradle his son's tiny head. I can't wait for those moments. I can't wait to watch Paxton walk in the room to meet his baby brother, to see those sweet little toddler lips brush across his new brother's soft forehead, and watch those chubby toddler hands gently point at his brother's features. I can't wait to watch my boys become brothers.
My husband rolls over next to me and my mind shifts to the nursery, the big room my two boys will share. We aren't ready for this baby. We don't have a crib yet. I haven't washed his tiny pajamas in Dreft or sanitized all of the bottles. We don't have his carseat installed and with only seven weeks to go, I don't have my hospital bag packed. All of the things that seemed so important to have ready when Paxton was coming are not my priorities now. I know this baby will have a warm, comfortable place to sleep, I know he'll have sweet-smelling blankets to be swaddled in, and most importantly, I know he'll have three people at home loving him wholeheartedly. I'm choosing to spend this time curled up on the couch, reading books with Paxton, enjoying the moments where I'm all his. And if reading Goodnight Moon for the sixteenth time today means I won't get the baby bathtub cleaned out again, that's ok. I've learned that the love is what matters.
And with that thought, I can drift off to sleep.
1 comment:
What a sweet post and good reminders for me! I have a 2.5 year old boy and I'm expecting another boy in June!
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