Summer
One of the best things about having Summer, other than enjoying her delightful personality, is how she reminds me of times with my other kids that I’d forgotten. She is a cross between the two.
Ethan
Ethan was an exceptional baby. I knew it and was immensely grateful. He smiled and laughed at a young age. He was almost always in good spirits. He slept through the night by three months. He was fun and cuddly.
Ava’s time as a baby is a blur to me. Even though her photos show a smiling adorable girl, most of the time she cried and wailed as if she were being tortured. I think she had painful gas. She never slept well. In fact, it wasn’t until a couple months ago that she began to sleep soundly through the night. I always thought Ava was a beautiful child but difficult as a baby.
Ava
Summer is pretty laid back. She likes to smile but rarely makes noise. Watching her laugh is like watching a silent movie. Wide gummy mirth and no volume. When she does speak, it’s in Kung Fu speak…the grunting, squealing sounds made by the guys doing karate in bad martial arts films.
Like Ethan, she seems to be an observer and is content to study the world around her. Ava is usually too busy chatting and dashing about to look around. Like Ava, I think Summer will be athletic. She moves constantly. Her right leg bounces up and down nonstop except when her foot is crammed in her mouth and she’s sucking on her toes.
Summer
Summer is also a drooler. Mommy is her favorite spit rag. We probably go through a half role of paper towels a day mopping up the vomit and drool. She sleeps better than Ava but not nearly as well as Ethan. Overall, she’s a pleasant baby and for that I am very, very thankful.
When Ethan was alive I used to think I was the luckiest parent. I had a boy and a girl, and the boy was older. It was ideal in my mind especially when I thought of other parents who kept having children because they had girls and wanted a boy or vice versa. However, life has always knocked me down whenever I feel too good. I always thought it was to keep me from getting a big head…to stay grounded.
Now here I am talking to nosy checkers at the grocery store who tell me, “Oh, you only had girls?”
“No, I had a son, he died.”
“Oh, sorry. What happened? Was he sick or something?” She stops scanning the groceries and turns to face me while the line grows longer.
“He and his grandfather drowned.”
“Really.” Big eyes. “How terrible. How did it happen.”
Sigh. “They bumped heads and were knocked unconscious.”
The lady behind me tries to avoid my eyes but she’s intently listening. I wonder when the cashier will stop talking and start working.
“What a strange accident. How sad.”
“Yes.”
“How old was he?”
“Six.”
“So young. You know I had a nephew who almost drowned.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She continues scanning my groceries and tells me about her nephew. Ava sits silently in the cart. Summer is quiet.
I have two beautiful girls. I once had a son, but won’t actually ever raise a son. I thought I had a perfect little family. If I had a big head, I don’t anymore. I have a wonderful family, but now it’s incomplete. Still, I have two girls who keep reminding me of what I have to be thankful for, and they are at the top of my list.
