I had a baby. A boy. Isaac Oscar Petersen. Ike.
I like him. I really really really like him. I love him. I did right from the start. Right when they handed me his bloody sqirming screaming body I loved him. I just want to eat him up, I love him so much.
I didn't feel this way about my daughter. Immediately after she was born, I kept repeating, "A baby came out of me, a baby came out of ME." It was so amazing and strange. Here was this baby. It had been inside me. I held her and nursed her. I looked at her quite a bit. But I just felt a whole lot of wonder. Where had this little thing come from?
I certainly liked her. I thought she was beautiful and wonderful but I didn't feel like she was my child. I just felt like she was in my care. I think the difficulty of the task (not killing this little living human) made it pretty tough for me to think about anything else.
I loved her after a while. And of course now there's nothing on this earth that I love more than her. But it really had to grow over time.
But Ike--right away I loved him. I could tell he was mine (and Todd's). I could tell that we had made him and that he was our son. And I could tell that I was really going to like him.
I don't know why it's been so much easier this time. Probably because I have done it before. I know what I am in for. I know that he is going to grow up to be a real live person (not stay an infant forever.) And there's probably more than that too, I don't know. But I can tell you that I like the feeling. I really really really like it. I love it.