You want me to be GENTLE with this thing that TOOK YOU FROM ME?? (All in caps because little boys are loud)
Forest knew there was a baby in my belly; he even named her Cookie. She kicked him often, especially when we took naps together and Forest’s back was against my (warm, large) middle. She even kicked him awake once. We showered together and Forest commented on my “tremendous belly” and how it reminded him of a pink balloon. He kissed the pink balloon. We talked about the things he would teach his baby sister.
Someone suggested this, so I told him the baby was going to bring him a present when she arrived. He just laughed and said, “Baby Cookie doesn’t have any money!” Another time, I showed him a family-friendly home birth video. I tried to prepare him.
But then Baby Cookie came out.
Forest slept through the home birth of his sister, and woke up a big brother. I told Graeme not to tell him she had been born; to just send him in to say good morning to me. Forest walked in the room, said hello, and froze.
“Did Baby Cookie come out??”
He was surprised and delighted and asked to hold her right away. He sat in bed with me, held her very tenderly, and shushed us when we talked, because there was a baby in the room.
Very considerate of him.
Then, a few weeks later, he gave me the option of sending Cookie to:
1) Mexico, to live with Abuela Kekei
2) Kingsburg, to live with Grandpa Jim
3) The Trash
I really don’t know if I could have avoided this. Maybe if I had taken a 12-year break in between kids, like my sister. But then my brothers are 10 and 5 years older than me and they still enjoy tormenting me from time to time. I think brothers are just meant to tease and terrorize and love their sisters while teasing and terrorizing them. One time, Daniel called me over and had me sniff some crayons he was holding, because they “smelled weird.” It was a fart.
Baby Cookie is five months old now, and things have gotten much better. Life is good and normal again, which means Forest doesn’t ask to “flow her away” anymore, but he still tried to flick her forehead at dinner tonight because she grabbed his shirt. Thankfully, three-year-olds aren’t very good at flicking and she smiled at his anger, thinking he was actually being nice. Or maybe she knows what she did.
Looking back now, I realize the transition from one to two kids could have been a bit easier. But not much easier.
I couldn’t help getting mastitis.
Forest had the very worst days of his life ten days after Cookie was born. I felt so terrible for so long I thought, this is probably what people feel like right before they die. I couldn’t hold my baby, I could hardly move, and I didn’t see Forest at all during those first days. We went from being together all day every day, to him going away to a friend’s house for hours (and trying to bite said friend) while I lay in bed with a fever and a tiny baby by my side.
Forest couldn’t recognize his life, I couldn’t function, and we both cried every day. Thankfully, my mom was with us and took care of me in the way that only a mom can. Her soft, freckly hands massaged my feet, and her prayers soothed my soul.
We finally had to go to urgent care, where I got a shot of antibiotics and a prescription for a 10-day treatment. Baby Cookie stayed at home with my mom, so Graeme, Forest, and I were on our own like in the old days. After the shot (which Forest found very entertaining and still talks about), we went to the pharmacy, and Graeme went in while Forest and I waited in the dark car for about an hour.
And he was SO HAPPY.
Graeme called me from inside Walgreens, worried Forest might be upset about having to wait so long, but Forest just yelled into the phone:
WE ARE HAVING SO MUCH FUN!
And that’s when Graeme realized and admitted: Forest is still a little boy and needs his Mama as much as he needs Daddy.
From the time Forest gave up breastfeeding (almost two years old), Graeme embraced the belief that Forest was practically a man and could do just fine without me. But then the biting of the friend, the daily meltdowns, and finally the party in the car proved Graeme’s theory wrong.
Forest is still a little boy and needs his Mama.
Besides the mastitis, the thing that made the transition hard for everyone was not napping. Forest went from taking a daily nap with me (very important for a pregnant lady), to not napping at all because I didn’t even know what time it was. Ah, those newborn days. So we just gave up on naps, and Forest went crazy.
He was being naughty every day, having meltdowns and doing weird things he would have never done before. One time, I walked into my room to find him about to stand on a chair he had placed IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BED.
WHAT.
But then one day, he had a nap, and when he woke up he was pleasant again! It was such a drastic, Fiona before and after sunset kind of difference.
After about two months of crazy shenanigans, he was back to Normal Forest.
The Cautious Forest who sees a big lizard, puts his hand on my shoulder, and asks: “You sink it’s okay for I a-grab him?”
The Sweet Forest who, in the middle of a project looks up at Daddy and says: “You know I love you.”
The Coordinated Forest who likes to put my earrings on me in the morning.
The Calm Forest who goes to his room to look at books by himself for half an hour.
The Forgetful Forest who just asked for another baby sister.
I’ll think about it.
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