The love, drama, and tragedy of expecting...
I am getting closer and closer to the birth of my third child - another boy - Donald Ray Bailey, junior (collective ughs in my honor happily acknowledged with smug looks directed to my hubby). I love my hubby - I do not love his name. He doesn't either - he's always signed it Don R. Bailey. But hey, we found out we were preggers - he found a sudden NEED to have his name carried on. Ugh.
At first, I planned to call the baby Drake - it would give me a full daytime drama cast - Grayson, Nicholas, and Drake - the Bad Bailey Boys who grow up to be heartbreaking world conglomerate billionaires. Yup, that was the plan. My sister one-upped me and renamed my child Raiden. A name my sons and hubby promptly fell in love with (enough for a nickname only I'm afraid - Don junior will still be on the birth certificate.) For those of you without sons in the birth to 25 age bracket, Raiden is the name of a character from Mortal Kombat. It also mimics my husband's name - backwards - Ray Don. I knew she was listening to too many Alice Cooper vinyls backwards when she suggested this and immediately brought up the hubby name thing.
But - beyond the name drama - and the drama of finding out that I'm going to have YET another boy - the biggest drama in our household (at this moment - they change frequently) is the two older siblings learning to make space for the new baby. Literally. We are a three bedroom house. Who is giving up their privacy to the new sleepless poop machine? The fight is on to decide.
Then there is space in their hearts and tender egos. Oh my. I thought it was bad when Grayson, my oldest, was 3. I now learn that almost 9 year olds and 5 year olds have far more reasoning - and therefore anxiety inducing - skills than 3 year olds can ever hope to claim.
My eldest never wanted the 2nd one. News of an impending third literally sent him into tears. For hours. Then he figured that the new baby will probably annoy #2 as much as #2 annoys him - so he now sees this as his opportunity for vicarious revenge. So, he's neutral.
My 5 year old is worse. Oi. For the first...um... 30 weeks of this pregnancy he showed nothing but absolute thrilldom with the pending baby. Someone to play with, to hug, to kiss, to shower his otherwise (from his older brother) spurned affections on. Yes!! This can only be a good thing!
Suddenly - last night - for no apparent reason I can find other than a Rugrats episode - sorta kinda maybe - he's scared to death. He swears the baby will be cuter than him, that I will forget him, that I will give him away. (Did I mention we have 6 week old kittens??? Anyone???)
The more I attempted to reassure him, the more - and louder- he proclaimed he knew, just knew, I would forget him. As if I could forget his big doe brown eyes, tiny little boy voice, skinny but pinchable butt, dirty feet, and earnest expressions. Never! Finally, in exasperation, at around 1 in the morning, I told him it was absolutely impossible for me to ever forget him because he wouldn't shut up. Yeah, that helped.
The next thing I know, his older brother - either suffering from acute lack of sleep or a sudden affection and love for his little brother - brought in one of the kittens. My 5 year old took the kitten, started petting it, and eventually the tears subsided. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life - to witness this kind and caring change in both brothers.
Heck, I may keep that kitten after all.
At first, I planned to call the baby Drake - it would give me a full daytime drama cast - Grayson, Nicholas, and Drake - the Bad Bailey Boys who grow up to be heartbreaking world conglomerate billionaires. Yup, that was the plan. My sister one-upped me and renamed my child Raiden. A name my sons and hubby promptly fell in love with (enough for a nickname only I'm afraid - Don junior will still be on the birth certificate.) For those of you without sons in the birth to 25 age bracket, Raiden is the name of a character from Mortal Kombat. It also mimics my husband's name - backwards - Ray Don. I knew she was listening to too many Alice Cooper vinyls backwards when she suggested this and immediately brought up the hubby name thing.
But - beyond the name drama - and the drama of finding out that I'm going to have YET another boy - the biggest drama in our household (at this moment - they change frequently) is the two older siblings learning to make space for the new baby. Literally. We are a three bedroom house. Who is giving up their privacy to the new sleepless poop machine? The fight is on to decide.
Then there is space in their hearts and tender egos. Oh my. I thought it was bad when Grayson, my oldest, was 3. I now learn that almost 9 year olds and 5 year olds have far more reasoning - and therefore anxiety inducing - skills than 3 year olds can ever hope to claim.
My eldest never wanted the 2nd one. News of an impending third literally sent him into tears. For hours. Then he figured that the new baby will probably annoy #2 as much as #2 annoys him - so he now sees this as his opportunity for vicarious revenge. So, he's neutral.
My 5 year old is worse. Oi. For the first...um... 30 weeks of this pregnancy he showed nothing but absolute thrilldom with the pending baby. Someone to play with, to hug, to kiss, to shower his otherwise (from his older brother) spurned affections on. Yes!! This can only be a good thing!
Suddenly - last night - for no apparent reason I can find other than a Rugrats episode - sorta kinda maybe - he's scared to death. He swears the baby will be cuter than him, that I will forget him, that I will give him away. (Did I mention we have 6 week old kittens??? Anyone???)
The more I attempted to reassure him, the more - and louder- he proclaimed he knew, just knew, I would forget him. As if I could forget his big doe brown eyes, tiny little boy voice, skinny but pinchable butt, dirty feet, and earnest expressions. Never! Finally, in exasperation, at around 1 in the morning, I told him it was absolutely impossible for me to ever forget him because he wouldn't shut up. Yeah, that helped.
The next thing I know, his older brother - either suffering from acute lack of sleep or a sudden affection and love for his little brother - brought in one of the kittens. My 5 year old took the kitten, started petting it, and eventually the tears subsided. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life - to witness this kind and caring change in both brothers.
Heck, I may keep that kitten after all.
posted by Danielle at 11:58 PM
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