This last month, my pitiful little man has had to have some pretty extensive dental work done. Due to a very underdeveloped mouth, he has had to have (so far!), 3 baby root canals, 3 caps, 3 jaw teeth pulled, 1 front tooth pulled, and wire spacers put in. He has one more intense visit (and one more payment!), next week, and then a couple of follow-ups before he is all done.
All of this work has resulted in what we call “Mom Mondays.” After his appointments (which are, obviously, scheduled on Mondays), he and I curl up on the couch with a drool cup while we wait for the swelling to go down and the laughing gas to wear off. Usually we watch TV and snuggle…. And we talk a lot. Of course, he talks without opening and closing his mouth and without swallowing anything that has gathered there, so I have to be a bit of a detective to figure out what he’s saying!
I have to treasure these moments, because I know that after a few hours, he will be back to normal, rough and tumble and loud and crazy. And way too busy to talk to me.
When Micah and I have our talks lately, we chat about school starting in a couple of weeks (he is so not excited), the trips we are going to take the rest of this year, and of course, talk often turns to baby.
Now, if I haven’t been clear enough on this subject, let me just reiterate that Prince Micah was perfectly comfortable in his position as the only child in Spalding Manor, and the thought of this new little creature is really cramping his style. Micah has never been a big fan of babies in general, much less one that is poised to stink up his house and steal chunks of Mom and Dad’s attention.
So every so often, Micah will pipe up with quips like this:
“You know, you can’t sing any of the songs you sang to me to the baby. Those songs are mine. You’ll have to think of new ones.”’
“The baby can’t get anything more expensive than me, because I’m older.”
“I don’t think Santa should even bring the baby anything for Christmas because he won’t even be able to open anything. He’ll just stare at it… and probably drool on it.”
I’m really hoping he warms up to the idea of having a baby brother, but I kind of understand where he’s coming from. Jay and I had eight years of marriage before Micah came along, and though we prayed and longed for him, he pretty much turned our pretty little marriage on its head! I imagine that’s how it will be for him. Eight years as the only child, and then BAM! - enter this Martian baby who will turn everything upside down! Still, I hope and pray that there will be some moment when he will look down at his baby brother and feel some love – or at least tolerance – for him.
In the meantime, we are doing all we can to ensure him that he is loved and treasured, no matter what. Very early in the pregnancy, when we had explained to Micah that the doctor had fixed Mom’s broken belly and a baby was a possibility, Micah said, “You just can’t love the baby more than me.”
I replied, “Micah, I waited for you my whole life, I could never love anyone the same way I love you.”
He thought for a minute and said, “Well, if I promise to never tell the baby, can you love me just a little bit more?”
I thought for a minute. I could say, “Micah, I will love you both the same amount. You’re both my children. I won’t have any favorites.”
But I didn’t.
I smiled and said, “Absolutely. But you can never, ever tell the baby, or I’ll deny the whole thing!”