July 1, 2006 - 3 hours old
About this time, 4 years ago, we were at the hospital awaiting the arrival of our second baby boy (very comfortably, I might add...I was in false labor two weeks early and had a shot of morphine in preparation for being sent home before a really nice nurse decided to let us "stay"). Morphine administered and epidural in place, I was having trouble with the most basic questions and requests, but I was comfy for the first time in weeks, if not months and let J know every few minutes ("I love morphine...I love you...!") The friendly nurses wanted to make small talk and I thought I was doing great until J had to carefully suggest that maybe I shouldn't worry about talking anymore since I wasn't making much sense.
I remember watching the clock tick down to 3 a.m., when my doctor said she would be back, while J slept and the nurses came quietly in and out. I knew that in a few hours we would meet the baby that would make us a family of four. a 'real family' we said. No longer a young couple with only one child. Junior would have a brother and we would have our two little boys. In a matter of hours, my life would never be the same again.
He arrived into my world, far more angry at his entry than his brother was. His dad laughed at the first sight of his indignant little face and I cried. He had a full head of dark, dark hair, was handsome beyond belief and he immediately peed on the doctor (his very favorite story). Bubba did everything 'more' than his brother from the start. This was fine, but since Junior was our only frame of reference up to that point, we had been expecting some version of him in our second son. Bubba cried louder, ate better and slept harder than his brother and we learned very quickly that he would own a different personality.
Four years later, Bubba remains the most intense child of my three. He still makes us laugh (and sometimes still makes me cry...) and is anything but mild mannered. We used to say that the word that would best describe him is fierce. He is very determined (as I write, he is lying awake upstairs, fighting off sleep and waiting for his birthday to officially be here) and he is the one I will be butting heads with for years. But he is also my hugger, my cuddler, my sweet boy who will randomly stop what he is doing to run and find me to tell me he loves me. He will also run to tell me that Sis is crying (as if it isn't loudly obvious), that she has something in her mouth or that he wasn't the one to smack her (sure...). He tells Junior every day that he is his best friend. He has a tender heart and a practical side (after threatening to call the police to come take me away the other day, I overheard him remorsefully telling Junior that if I went away, no one would take care of them and there would be no one to make them breakfast.) He is fiercely committed to his make believe world and heaven help you if you address him as other than whatever character he is being at the moment (i.e. peter pan, the hulk, invisible brother, etc. etc.) or if you fail to acknowledge his invisible lion pet (who wouldn't stop scratching Sis until I threatened to spank his bum for every time his 'pet' got out of hand).
This sweet middle child, who seems to pride himself on being a polar opposite of his brother, is one of my three greatest joys and I am so proud to be his mom.
Happy Birthday Iron Man! I wubba you and have from the second I laid eyes on you...