Not Favoritism

Early this morning, I got to spend some time rocking the boy. He was awake even earlier than usual and desperately needed, for everyone's sake, to go back to sleep. He was restless and kept sitting up, looking around and then nose diving back to my chest to snuggle for a few minutes. Even though I was sleepy and really wanted that extra 45 minutes sleep before my alarm went off, I buried my face in his hair and breathed deeply of his baby scent each time. I reminded myelf that very soon baby boy would no longer be a baby. That these quiet times were swiftly coming to a close.

Because of the all-to-soon ending of his babyness, I am choosing to talk about my son first. You know, youngest to oldest or something like that. Or maybe not even in that order. Could be that another moment in time will inspire me to write about my middle girl. I'm spontaneous and care-free like that. (stop laughing those of you who know better!)

This is one of my favorite pictures of baby boy. Look at those eyelashes! He is one of the happiest, cutest, most beloved babies you will ever know. Of course he can be grumpy, stubborn (from his dad of course) and now that he is crawling and pulling up, he loves getting his hands on anything in reach.

His sisters adore him, of course. He loves them too, mostly. From a distance, on his own terms, and when the planets are aligned. No, really, he does love them. When he and youngest girl are at the babysitters, the sight of his sister quiets his tears. His two older sisters love putting him in his backyard swing or taking him to their room to play house with him. So far, he doesn't protest being the baby in their game, but give him time.

I can't imagine life without our boy. I can hardly believe there was a time I considered not having a fourth baby. I had a hard time getting up the gumption to go through it all again. Which explains the 4 year difference between youngest girl and baby boy. Life was good; potty training was behind us, sleep was better than it had been for a long time and our home was free of baby clutter. I suppose I was just too selfish to give all that up. Not to mention that the idea of another c-section was very unpleasant.

But, through all that, I knew there was one more child for us. Four was our number. Girl or boy, we wanted to welcome that last spirit into our home. However, even though we were all, "Girl or boy, it doesn't matter," when the ultrasound tech turned her magic wand in just the right spot and 'baby' became 'baby boy' a whole new feeling came over me. A son. My son. Our son. I called him 'son' a lot at first. I felt humbled and awed looking in to his face and thinking, "This is my son."

At times like this morning I still feel the same way. I love you sweet baby boy.