Great expectations

When I was pregnant with Kylie I imagined how wonderful life would be with an infant. It was with great anticipation that I awaited the birth of our first child. I could see myself rocking her to sleep in the rocking chair that Robbie had bought for me before we even knew I was pregnant. I pictured lazy afternoons strolling the neighborhood with her cooing contentedly in her stroller, cozy evenings snuggled up on the couch with her snoozing on my chest, late night feedings with her nursing for a bit then drifting back into her sweet newborn dreamland. Boy was I in for a surprise.

It quickly became apparent that while I had been dreaming for nine months about the idyllic bliss a newborn would bring, Kylie had been plotting to overthrow the regime that would be her parents. From the start she made it clear that she was the boss. There would be no snuggling on the couch. Snuggling was fine, as long as the snuggler was moving. This little snugglee demanded constant motion to be happy, and lest you think the motion was only necessary until she fell asleep just try to sit down while holding her and watch the happy sleeping baby morph instantly into the unhappy screaming baby (trying to lay her down was also a cardinal sin). As for strolling that was fine too, as long as she was being held, don't think for one second that she was going to sit in some stinkin' stroller. Don't even get me started on "drifting" into dreamland. If she fell asleep nursing she would sleep only as long as I left her on the Boppy pillow and didn't attempt to move. In order to get her to fall asleep I had to dance with her, and dance, and dance, and dance... At 3:00 in the morning she and I would be dancing around the TV room to the sounds of Garth Brooks on the stereo as I prayed for her to sleep.

My mother-in-law insisted that she was a colicky baby and that was her problem. I knew better though, even in those early days as a new mother somehow I knew that Kylie wasn't colicky. She didn't have a "problem", she was just, well, Kylie. Even as an infant my firstborn had very definite ideas about how things should be and how the world around her should function. As she approaches her seventh birthday nothing has changed. She is determined, tenacious, persistent, and wonderful. Despite my exhaustion in the early months when she demanded constant dancing and bouncing from me (for some reason in spite of his best efforts dear hubby couldn't meet her exacting standards) I refused to admit that motherhood or my sweet baby were anything less than perfect (and I would gladly unleash my wrath upon anyone who dared to suggest otherwise). Yes, she was challenging, but as far as I was concerned she was the sweetest baby in the whole world because she was mine.

My motivation behind writing this blog entry is that I now have the baby I dreamt of so many years ago. I brought Bella to work with me today. My boss is on vacation, so after nursing and changing her I placed her on a blanket on his floor. From my desk outside his office I could hear her cooing and every few minutes I would peek in the door to see her looking around and checking things out. Within ten minutes of placing her on the blanket she popped her chubby little thumb in her mouth, rolled onto her side and fell asleep. She is what I expected when I got Kylie. And yet somehow, if Bella, or even Phillip, who was also a very mellow baby, had been born first I wouldn't have appreciated them nearly as much as I do, nor would I be as good a mother. While I spent my pregnancy with Kylie anticipating teaching my baby so many things, she taught me so much more. From Kylie I have learned, among other things, patience, grace under pressure, and that love isn't always easy. She continues to teach me, and even though she wasn't the baby of my dreams I wouldn't change a thing about her, then or now.