Holding your baby in your arms for the first time; that’s something that never gets old.
We had our third baby boy on Sunday, June 17, 2012, or Father’s Day here in the United States, and the experience was very much like the previous two, which is to say that it was as different as the first two were different.
Speaking from my perspective only, the first seems like a bad dream. It was early in the morning. I was in scrubs and sitting in an operating room next to my wife’s head.
The second one also was early in the morning, but it was practically glorious. That son emerged with the sun, and I held him and watched the Corona Hills reflect yellow and orange hues as he slept oh-so-peacefully.
This little guy was born at 9:11 p.m. PDT and was bigger than the first two by more than eight ounces. He was pink and crying and ready to meet the world. He quickly calmed down and layed quietly while he was examined by the specialists. Seriously. He just let it happen. Almost like he knew what to expect. Then he held my hand and coo-ed while I sang to him.
How is it possible that three boys that look so much alike could have been so different at birth? Then again, how can the first one be so gentle while our second wants to make a blaster out of everything?
It makes me wonder how my newest son’s personality will develop.
If he’s anything like the first two… he’ll be nothing like the first two.