My darling little boy is three weeks and three days old. He is wonderful. I'm loving almost every minute right now. Wriggly is happy if he is snuggled up to me, especially if he is nursing. The only time he is unhappy while I hold him is when he has gas pain. That is not fun and I sincerely hope he masters his intestines soon.
One of my fears has proven unfounded so far. When I was pregnant I was concerned about jealousy. Squiggle never liked me to hold other babies. Holding another child was about the only way I could get her to sit in my lap. But she has not had a problem with the attention I give Wriggly. In fact we've had the opposite problem. She gets upset when she can't hold him. As she is not quite two, she cannot be trusted to hold him unaided. We don't always have the time to assist her so she doesn't get to hold him as much as she'd like. He's not too fond of it either.
He is the baby I wanted. I love my daughter but her infancy was a nightmare. She had severe "colic" and we spent 5 1/2 months with a baby who slept less than ten hours a day and spent most of her waking time screaming. But her story is a different story. The point is with her I felt robbed. Everything was a battle. Breastfeeding, sleep, even poop. She was in pain for most of her first six months of life. And we all felt it. I desperately wanted that snuggly, sleepy, smiley baby that everyone else seemed to have. Instead we were in purgatory. As wonderful as she has been the past 1 1/2 years, I have mourned missing out on the newborn bliss. Now I have that.
I am clearly his favorite person. I do realize that it is partly biological. After all, I am his food source. But when I smell his delicious newborn scent with his head buried in my neck I feel loved. When I look down at his closed-eye smile with his head or hand resting on my breast, it seems more than just biology.
Before his birth I couldn't imagine loving another child as much as I love my daughter. She is so wonderful that it just didn't seem possible. Now, it does.