When I was blessed with one little boy, I thought (but secretly knew otherwise) that there was no way I could love another the way I loved him, my Jackson. To say he rocked my world is the understatement of the century. For reals. He looked like me. He looked like Rodney. His hair was dark. His skin was pale, yet slightly olive. His eyes were darker than both of ours, and I couldn't help but to marvel at how our DNA combined to create the most wonderful little creature this woman could have ever imagined...
Then there were two. Brady's arrival thrilled us just as we'd been thrilled before... He was perfect, TOO! There's never been a skinnier little newborn. His gave new meaning to "chicken legs." His face was an awful lot like Jackson's, as was his coloring. His eyes were deep and dark, and oh, so almond shaped. His widow's peak and head full of black hair made me laugh. He was the perfect baby boy, sleeping many more hours than we'd been used to with our baby number 1. All was right in the world.
Then there were three. I was sure all along that it was another baby boy, long before the 20-wk ultrasound. When my doctor informed us that it was a "he" in there, Jackson excitedly shouted, "I was right!" right there in the exam room. Carter (or God, you choose) likes delivering surprises; first, he decided to meet us a few weeks early, which I am eternally grateful for. Not only that, he came with such a different little "look." Talk about Scandinavian!!!
No doubt, they have their similarities. But their differences are...so obvious. Ya think?
