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.
 |
| Poor baby |
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!”
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