good things come in threes

I marvel at my children. It seems like just yesterday I was sitting with my mom and going through impossibly small undershirts as I awaited the arrival of my first baby. I knew she was a girl. We never had this confirmed by ultrasound or fancy test, I just always knew I'd have a girl first. I had her entire name (minus the last name of course) picked out when I was 16 years old and in love with the movie G.I.Jane. The anticipation of that first baby was overwhelming. Here I was, going from being responsible for only me, to becoming a mother. I knew I'd be up all night feeding it, I knew that it would probably cry a little (or a lot!), and yet I couldn't wait to hold the little bundle in my arms and share the moment with my husband. I couldn't wait to bring baby home, come what may. People told me horror stories of labour and delivery and babies who cried 24/7. I didn't care, nothing could have diluted the happiness I felt knowing that I was about to become a mother.

I thought about the baby all day, every day. I sat in class and daydreamed about the baby, I sat at work stuffing envelopes and thinking of boy names - just in case. When my water broke at 3 o'clock one morning I wasn't the least bit panicked about labour, I was thrilled that the day had come. When the baby was born and I heard her cry for the first time and looked into my husband's eyes and saw tears and heard his choked voice telling me it was a girl I loved him all the more for being as emotional as I was.

There is something astronomical about becoming a mother for the first time. Nobody can ever explain how it feels to someone who hasn't done it.

Recently someone told my husband that our third baby wasn't as exciting as a first baby. I'm not even sure to go with this one. First of all, I can't believe someone would say that to a man who has just seen his wife through a third labour and delivery and brought home a new baby. Secondly, it is as exciting, it's exciting to us.

It's true that becoming a mother the first time is an amazing thing. That doesn't detract from any future children. I love my children, each and every one of them. The need to love and protect doesn't diminish with each child. When we had Tennyson and ended up in the hospital unexpectedly I cried myself dry watching them hook wires and tubes all over him as he screamed under the glaring warming lights. I ached to pick him up, to console him. Later as I sat in the hospital room while he was down in ICU I felt so heartbroken that I couldn't be with him. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Luckily, he was okay and we brought him home a few days later. Having him become a part of our family was amazing. Jordan loved him to pieces, as did we. Sure it was a little more work with another baby, but we were up for it and wouldn't have changed it for anything. Steven and I used to sneak into his room at night and watch him sleep on his face with his bum impossibly high in the air. He was the cutest little thing. He has been such a joy in our lives. He's the cuddliest, most affectionate kid EVER, and his sense of humor astounds me. He seems too young to do the goofy things he does to entertain us. He follows me around and tries to “help” me clean, and brings me new diapers for the baby when he overhears me saying something about changing him.

Now we've got Mitchell. He's still in the newborn “I don't do anything, or smile, or wake up much” phase, and yet he feels so unique and special and ours. He keeps me up all night with his cries to be held and cuddled and I don't even mind (much). People warned me incessantly about how much harder three is than two, and I don't care. Mitchell was planned for and wanted and I want him still. It's amazing how much I loved him even before he was born, and having his tiny wiggling body put into my arms the first time was amazing, even as amazing as the first baby. I know that in the months to come he'll get more demanding, and the kids will need more time to adjust. I don't regret having had them close together, or having yet another baby. I love them all with such immensity that I can't even explain it even to myself.

When I was pregnant with Tennyson I felt so guilty at times. I didn't think about the baby as constantly as I did the first time. There would be days when I realised I hadn't thought of him at all. My mom assured me that it didn't mean anything, and that I was busy chasing a toddler and running all over the city for my work, and that it was normal that I didn't stop to daydream about the upcoming baby. I loved Jordan with such intensity and worried that I wouldn't feel quite the same about the next one. Again, with motherly wisdom she told me not to worry, that it would be the same. She was right, she often is about stuff. When I saw him for the first time I was hooked and there was no turning back, and it's the same again with Mitchell. I think I could have a dozen kids and feel the same warmth and love and tears for the arrival of each one. Each of them has made our family special in a new and wonderful way.

Yesterday I sat in the chair in the baby room and watched with teary eyes as Tennyson reached through the bars to pat Mitchell's little fuzzy head as he delightedly repeated “beby” over and over again. My older two kids adore their new brother, the excitement in our home over this baby is incredible. He's now part of a family who loves each other to pieces, and we're blessed to have him too.