Robert Edward Burns, born December 22, 2011, 7 lbs, 3 oz., 21 in.
Ah, the second child... My little neglect-a-rino. Isn't that always how you hear? The first child has attention lavished on them indefinitely, but by the time the second child arrives on the scene (and any subsequent children), your attention is divided and you instantly up the mom guilt, for feeling like you're always neglecting a child?
Luckily for me, Rob's extremely mellow and laid back, and he's certainly much more of a watcher, so he's fine to take a proverbial back seat to his sister's shenanigans.
Most of the time.
Robbie came in to this world at 38 weeks, a week before we were SCHEDULED to meet him. And can you blame the guy? He was born on December 22 (sharing his great-grandaddy's birthday), and we came home from the hospital on Christmas Eve. The guy knew Santa was on his way!
Robert is both of my grandfather's first names, along with Tim's uncle -- the priest who married us, and baptized all Tim's cousins and their children.
His middle name, Edward, was a last minute switch. For years, we had alluded to our kids, Carol and Robbie. But our hypothetical son's name was Robert Bruce Burns. Bruce being Tim's dad's middle name; then the two would have the same initials. But as his impending arrival drew closer, we began waffling on the name 'Bruce' - and after some discussion, and at the very last minute, Bruce was turned down for Edward. (And thankfully so, as his dad later admitted he never much cared for his middle name.)
From the very instant I got to hold him, I fell madly in love! From the very start, Rob-o was cuddly and snuggly, unlike his rather active -yet equally lovable- sister. The time I spent bonding with him during our (short) hospital stay only increased an already solid bond.
This is not to say I didn't also fall madly in love with Carol. However, being the first born, there was a long-looming newborn fog hanging over us, and it seemed like I was going through the motions without things truly sinking in for what they were. I knew I loved Carol well before she ever even existed. Instead, it was more like a slowly emerging epiphany, and one day about six weeks or so in to motherhood, I recall staring down at her and remarking, as I had so often "I love you!". As the words rolled off my tongue, I got goosebumps with the idea and discovery of how overwhelmingly true and humbling those words were.
With Robbie, there was no newborn fog or insecurities about the unknowns of newborns and parenthood. Since only about six hours elapsed from the time I went in to labor to the time I held him in my arms, the "fog" lifted quickly and was less dense. I'd already taken care of a newborn, so I felt more confident in my mothering skills, including nursing. Thus, they plopped him in to my arms, and my heart melted immediately as we bonded.
I digress. Life with Rob has been amazing. I've thoroughly enjoyed watching him and his sister interact so sweetly already. Carol immediately took to baby "Wobbie", and has been doting on him from the day we brought him home. She frequently wants to hold him, which I allow when she sits on the couch; however, as he gets older and more -er- wiggly, this privilege seems to be more taxing for her. Still, she enjoys her new role and has really honed in on her "big sister" skills.
We have been incredibly blessed with two sweet, vibrant red-headed children, and our lives are richer from these beautiful gifts!