The Boys Figure it Out

It's hard to believe that Gavin has been home for almost a week now, and that he's two weeks old. It's even harder to believe how much more grown up the boys seem now that we have a teeny one in the house.


My first baby. I can't believe he was ever my baby. How did he get so grown up? He spends hours holding his baby brother, stroking his hands and singing to him. And yet, I love getting a glimpse of the little boy he still is...

My first day home from the hospital, I was standing in my closet changing my clothes (privately, I might add) when Kirby came barging in. As he began to speak, his eyes wandered down to my lower abdomen, where my C-section incision was very visible and held together with steri-strip tape.

"Oh Mommy," he said softly, covering his mouth with both hands. "That looks like it hurts. Is that where they took the baby out?"

"Yes," I told him, "and it does hurt".

"It makes my feet feel wobbly," he said in a shaky voice. Afraid he was going to faint or vomit (which would not be uncharacteristic) I hurried him away and told him not to look anymore. As he exited my room, I heard him run into Connor.

"Connor, come here...there's something you have to see!"

And this one, who just can't be 4 1/2.

My first night home from the hospital, I began to set up the breast pump I would have to use throughout the night to pump milk for Gavin's bottles in the NICU. As I was getting everything in order Connor wandered into my room and asked what the machine was for. I tried to explain to him by using just the bare bones of facts (I figured I didn't want to give him more info than he needed).

"This is a machine that's going to help me collect milk for Gavin when I'm away from him and can't feed him myself," I explained to Connor.

"Oh. How does it work?"

"Well, the machine works the same way as a baby does to take milk from my breasts," I told him.

"So...you put that on your breasts?"

"Yes," I answered, wondering just how much longer Connor was going to make me drag out the explanation. But to my relief he just turned on his heel and left my room.

"HEY KIRBY!!!" He yelled in what we call his "whisper 2000" voice. "Mom's got a machine up here that sucks milk out of her breasts for Gavin!"

I cringed as I thought of my father-in-law dozing on the couch downstairs, knowing that any sense of delicacy I had managed to salvage up to this point was slipping away thanks to Connor. While he did leave me alone during the times I needed to pump, he became fascinated with the bottles of milk that would be on my nightstand first thing in the morning, left from my last pump of the night. Each morning he would come in and ask if he could take them to the refrigerator.

"Milk delivery!" He would announce to the rest of the family who were sitting at the breakfast table. "Coming through with milk!" (Connor does nothing subtly).

Opening the fridge that first morning, his eyes popped as he caught sight of the six other bottles that I had put there during the night.

"Kirby look!" he exclaimed to his brother, holding up the two bottles he had carried. "Mom's milk...and she has a whole collection!" he said fanning his arm a-la Vannah White under the six other bottles.