Life After the Second Line

Friday, August 19, 2005

Four Months Ago Today

Happy Four Month Birthday, Peyton and Ethan.

Four months ago today, at this time, I hadn't seen you except for the instant they held you up for me to get a quick glance before they whisked you out of the operating room and down to the NICU. I knew you were beautiful, but I didn't know you yet, then.

Ethan, I didn't know that you would turn out to be my easygoing, busy little man, the one who would always have a smile ready for anybody. Especially anybody who happened to be female. That you would love, love, love your brightly colored toys and would be able to spend ages (in baby terms, at least) batting at them and laughing. That you would be obsessed with light, whether natural or artificial, and that the ultimate state of nirvana for you would be to lie on your playmat in the sun. That you would always wake up when I tried to lay you down in bed at night, no matter how soundly you'd been sleeping in my arms just minutes before, or how hard you would fight to get out of the swaddling everyone at the hospital had assured us you'd love. Or that, when you finally did break loose of said swaddling, you'd fall asleep immediately with a tiny smile on your lips -- victorious at last. Or how, when I go in to get you out of bed, you would curl your whole body into a tiny little ball and snuggle into my chest, with your head buried in my neck, and fall asleep all over agin.

Peyton, I didn't know you'd be the more emotional one, the one whose feelings would get hurt so easily if anyone dared enter the room without smiling and talking to you immediately. That your smile would be harder to come by than your little brother's, but that it would light up your entire face -- the entire room! -- when you decided the time was right. That you'd be a bit of a mommy's girl, always seeking me out in the room no matter who was holding you, and that you'd always settle down when you realized I was close by. I didn't know how interested you'd be in interacting with people rather than things, and how you'd bypass any toy to "talk" to anyone willing to listen. Or that you'd be everyone's favorite little teddy bear, always content to snuggle in someone's arms for as long as they'd have you -- which, as cute as you are, is usually quite a long time. I didn't know that you'd be the one who would have a harder time making it out of the hospital, but that finally, four months later, you'd be a happy, healthy ten pounder who will never remember how long you spent hooked up to oxygen and monitors.

These four months haven't been the easiest of my life -- not by a long shot. But because of you two, without question, they have most definitely been the best. You'll never understand how much I love you, but I promise I'll try to show you every single day.


  • Welcome back. I'm so sorry we and you lost the old blog, but glad to be able to read about your children. So glad that thing are going well.

    By Anonymous thalia, at 2:10 PM  

  • that's things. With an s. Sheesh.

    By Anonymous thalia, at 2:10 PM  

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