My older sister welcomed a beautiful healthy baby girl early this morning - Dannan Mairead was born at 3:30-ish, coming in at 7 lbs 7 ozs (I think?) and 18 inches long. Just four short hours after I suggested that maybe said sister should get her ASS TO THE HOSPITAL.
I am beyond thrilled for Sarah and her family. Dannan was much anticipated and she was a long time coming. And for just a minute, I had a tetch of the baby fever. I miss the warmth of a baby on my chest, a baby asleep on the breast, the first smiles, first steps, first words. The firsts of it all. It is all new.
And then Brigit, who was ecstatic, informed me that she wanted a baby sister for her birthday. And I snapped out of it. The truth of the matter is that my heart is full to bursting with each of my kids' firsts - the first time Rory smiled, the first time Brigit growled. The first words ("dog" and "Aye, Aye, Captain") and steps (lazy bones Rory at 16 months, Brigit entirely too early at 10 months) and foods (bananas and blueberries for Ror, anything not nailed down for Brig).
And each day they bring me new firsts.
Today was the first day Rory stamped his entire body with red ink. (Oh, Laurie, thanks for including that stamp in the birthday goody bag. No really.)
And last week was the first time Brigit referred to herself in the third person. "Brigit is hungry. Brigit wants milk." Princess practice, perhaps?
I am deep in the trenches with their firsts, each is a new challenge. What exactly is the appropriate punishment for over-stamping? How do you deal with a pig-headed toddler who has a case of the royal we? (Yes, yes, pot, kettle, black, I get it.)
I am still working it out, having my own firsts along with them. Today is the first day of Dannan's life, the first of Sarah's life as the mother of two (hold on to your hat, honey), and the first day I was pronounced Mama Gorilla by Brigit Gorilla.