When I first got pregnant with Connor, I wasn't as excited as I wanted to be. 3 months earlier I'd had a miscarriage (if you can call it that, there was no fetal growth, the egg had been fertilized and attached, but everything stopped there). The miscarriage scared me for my future pregnancies and I didn't want to get too attached (to what is now Connor) in case it was doomed to be another failed pregnancy. The emotional trama is too much. Eventually we got to the doctor. We were nervous as we waited for that dating sonogram and for the doctor to find the little blip on the screen and hear the heartbeat. Finally, there he was. Nothing more than a round blob, but his heart was beating. We exhaled. What a relief. Still leary, I asked to schedule our next appointment 3 weeks out instead of 4, not a big difference, but the wait between those early appointments is excrutiating. Any slight relief is welcome. My doctor allowed it to ease my worries and keep me calm and hopeful for a successful pregnancy, I appreciate him a great deal for that. He did tell me that the baby would probably be too small at the next appointment (10 weeks) to hear the heartbeat with the doppler, we would likely have to do another sono. Darn! ;) Fast forward 3 weeks, we couldn't find the heartbeat using the doppler and would need to wait for the sono, the room was a little backed up. I was excited for the sono but scared during the wait. What if my worse fears came true twice. When we got in to see him, not only did my doctor find his heartbeat, we saw his arms and legs, we saw him moving and wiggling around. Incredibly active for 10 weeks developed. We got a video, my doctor said it was the best he'd seen a kiddo do for the camera. Another exhale of relief. I was finally ready to invest and get truly excited about my pregnancy. :)
If you've not heard me say it before, I'm a big believer in mom's gut in knowing the gender of her child. It can be wrong, but I think sometimes you just have a gut feeling and it's right. My gut was 2 for 2, 100%, batting 1000. We found out we were pregnant with Avery and two weeks later I was calling her Avery, certain she was a girl. That didn't keep me from panicking a little before we officially found out. I didn't know for certain, my gut could be wrong, but it wasn't. That late May afternoon we found out we'd have a baby girl in October. Score one for mom's gut. Names are probably one of the most difficult decisions for expecting parents. We knew Avery's first name right away, but took months to come up with her middle name. Well, if we had a girl the second time around, her name would be Kennedy Mae. The name came quick and easy. We agreed about as soon as the name was picked. Done. But my gut was talking to me, and as much as I wanted another girl (being one of two girls in my family and loving it and wanting the same great experience for Avery), I had a feeling we would be having a boy. We worked for months to come up with a name. I can't remember if we had his name picked out when we went into the sono and found out we were having a boy. But by Christmas it was settled and we shared his name with our families. This was when they all found out we were having a boy.
I wanted a girl. I knew about girls. I'm a girl, I have a daughter and a sister. I knew what it was like. And while I had been watching Dayton since he was about 9 months old, I still felt unprepared for a son of my own. I wasn't disappointed when I found out we were having a boy, like I said, my gut had been telling me for months, which was why we agonized over a boy name for months, when the girl name had come so fast and easy. My gut told me that girl name wouldn't be used. I worried that my son wouldn't have cute clothes because girls are so much more fun to shop for. I worried that he and his sister wouldn't get along well the way my sister and I had because they weren't two boys or two girls. I worried that I wasn't ready for a messy, rowdy boy, when all I'd really experienced so far was my own sweet baby girl. But all of my worries were for no reason. In the months that would follow, as Connor grew and we prepared for his arrival, my sweet daughter left the baby stage and became a toddler. She began climbing on things, wrestling her cousin to the ground, getting her own sass and personality. My sweet baby girl acted more like a messy, rowdy boy with each passing day. I saw a lot more of myself in her than I care to admit. ;) Karma continues to show me in her and I can't help but think I owe a lot of the adults in my life an appology for my childhood self. I had a full blown toddler when Connor arrived, well on her way to the terrible twos (which, I've heard, don't hold a candle to the threes), with a stink eye that could have taken out several people if looks could kill. ;) To be quite honest, I was looking forward to the baby who wouldn't do anything. And I wasn't scared of having a boy so much anymore.
Connor hasn't grown into all his boyish glory yet. I imagine a day will come when I'm pulling rocks out of the washer that were left in his pockets. I doubt he'll want his hands to stay as clean as Avery does. I imagine he'll get her back for all the wallering she's doing to him now (out of pure love). But for now, he's still my sweet baby boy. He's just starting to move, and his little personality is beginning to shine. I've heard that no two kids grow up in the same household, even if they are siblings. I believe that to be true. I'm not sure if it's because of his happy demeanor, because he's my second child, or because he's simply not a toddler yet, but Connor's first 7 months have looked very different from Avery's. I went back to work about 2 months after Avery was born. I continued to work at night and on the weekends until she was 19 months old when Connor arrived. I haven't worked since Connor has been a part of our family. Avery had to learn to self soothe and cry herself to sleep. We were two very tired new parents. Connor is my baby. I can't stand to hear him cry. He has to self soothe far less than she did. This shoe may drop sometime later in his life. Avery had to learn to be away from me while I went to work. Connor tends to get very upset if he can't see me. Spoiled little stinker. I had a harder time learning how to be a parent to one, than a parent to two. I was not the Mommy I wished to be when Avery was little. Now that Connor's here and I've got a couple years of Mommyhood under my belt (which is pretty hard to believe) I'm closer to the person I wish I'd been for Avery, but still not there.
Now, to the reason I got on the blog today and began writing. I am so completely in love with that little boy I was worried about. The little boy who's pregnancy didn't make me jump up and down in the beginning. The little boy who's name concerned me for months, trying to find the perfect one. The little boy who wasn't the sister for Avery that Sis is for me. The little boy who'd be dressed in boy clothes and not like another princess daughter. The little boy who will likely grow up to be a silly, rowdy, dirty toddler. I am in love with him. Head over heels. Gaga. Smitten. He can do no wrong. He's my baby. He's my little guy. He smiles constantly. He bounces and bobs. He scoots across the floor and when he looks up and meets my eyes he smiles so big his eyes start to hide behind his chubby cheeks, just like mine. :) I feel like I'm a better Mommy for his first months than I was for Avery's. But I'm a better Mommy for her in her toddler years than I was when she was a baby. And the plan is to continue to get better the older they grow.
Now, please, don't misunderstand me when I post this. Please don't think I don't love my daughter. She was the one who made me a Mommy. My love for her is fierce, unconditional, eternal. She is my first toddler, and I know Connor's toddler years will run smoother than hers, because I'll be a better Mommy then too. In this moment I have a wild and crazy toddler. She's amazing and frustrating in the same moment. I also have a baby boy, and whether it's because he's a baby, or because he's my baby and my last kiddo, or simply because of his winning personality, at this moment, he can do no wrong. He is a constant source of joy, happiness, and a feeling of being blessed. He doesn't require me to pull him off the dining room table, pull toys out of the toilet, tape together torn up books, or wash sheets and bedding when he takes off his diaper and poops on the bed. ;) He's a baby. He wants to be fed, held, snuggled, smiled at. At this moment in life, he's easier. :P And he's a relief in some trying, frustrating Mommy moments. :) Now, his screaming for 70 minutes during long car rides could go, but otherwise, he's basically perfect. :D These two are my life, their daddy is my lifeline and sanity. I am blessed beyond measure. In this moment I watch my 6 (almost 7) month old son scooting on the floor, kicking his feet in happy excitement, chewing on a book with those two new sharp little teeth. He fills me with joy and makes me hopeful that maybe today I'll be the Mommy who does everything right. I'm a realist, so I doubt it, but at least I'll be happy. Because there's no other little guy I'd rather spend my morning with. I don't need coffee (although I'll probably make some anyway) because a morning with him is the very best way I could possibly start my day. I love you, Connor. :)
