Note: This will be my last post until I have completed our tax returns. Unfortunately, a blog can be used by one's husband as evidence in the Court of Procrastination. *gulp*
Anjali turned 7 months on Saturday. I still remember her birth as a Hollywood Moment - the one where there is a tense birth complete with chord around the baby's neck and an OB waiting in the wings to perform a C-section, and then you push! and push! and push! and then you are presented with your wee bunting baby who immediately latches on to the breast perfectly. Cue the angels and cut to closing music. It's a wrap, folks.
Arun's birth was so very different. He had swallowed meconium in utero and therefore, he was whisked away immediately by respiratory therapists so they could suction and observe him for awhile to make sure he was breathing fine. I did not see Arun for nearly 2 hours and it was oddly quiet. I remember when they presented him, it was hard to believe that he was ours and that we had a baby. The entire hospital experience was a hazy one filled with excitement and anticipation. I flitted around my room high as a kite with adrenaline, tidying my room constantly. I gladly sent Arun to the nursery because I wanted to sleep and take care of myself. As I was being discharged, a nurse sternly warned me I needed to slow down when I got home. I did not listen to her and it took me nearly 5 weeks to heal appropriately. Conversely, with Anjali, I took it easy in the hospital and slept as much as possible with Anjali in the bed with me. I rarely sent her to the nursery - I was very anxious that she stay with me and I did not like it when she was gone. I also took it easy at home and healed within 3 weeks.
I just realized today the difference between the two experiences really lies in this simple statement:
Where Arun's birth story was also about me becoming a mother, Anjali's birth was primarily about her being born. With Arun, I was wrapped up in the whole I Am Now A Mother gig and with Anjali, I was more focused on her.
Recently in conversation with my friend R, I accidentally referred to Anjali as an "accident". I immediately corrected my mistake. Anjali was no accident - she was very much unplanned - but she was no accident. X and I had the luxury to be able to take a reproductive gamble and so here we are with two kids, very close in age.
Lately, Anjali's personality is really starting to show itself - she loves music and lights up whenever she hears any sort of song or tune. She is also already showing an independent streak that Arun is still not showing. For example, when I am feeding her, she must grab the spoon and help. No ifs, ands or buts. She is also beginning to get frustrated with her inability to move. She is also still very fascinated with anything and everything that Arun does. The only reason that I am still her favorite person is that I am also serving as a food source. I suspect once she weans, Arun will quickly usurp my position. And finally, gender stereotypes be damned. This little girl is most assuredly a Daddy's Little Girl. I had to wait 6 years for my set of bangles. X has already began searching for her set.
In short, we are just completely delighted with our Little Calculated Risk Seriously Miscalculated. Damn straight, she is the best mistake in arithmetic I ever made.
A Sprig of Hair