the second born, you know, the one with the penis?

Oh Christopher...Chris...Pooh Bear...I'm not quite sure what you're going to want people to call you, when you're fourteen years old. But today you are four and you prefer to be called Pooh Bear. How can it be possible that FOUR years have flown by. Already?? Wasn't it just yesterday, that your sister had just turned two and you were still inside my tummy, all cozy warm? Wasn't it just yesterday, that I awoke early in the morning, of the fifteenth of September, to some slight cramping and spotting? Turning out to be this mucusy thing and when I phoned the doctor's office, was told not to worry. It could still be days or even a week and that I would make it to my scheduled c-section. But when asked if  I were feeling any other discomfort, I answered "no, not really." then causally adding, "my back is a little sore."

I guess that was a sign to be concerned. The nurse asked me to come in as soon as I could.  No sooner had I hung up the phone, I could feel some trickling going down my leg and wondered, "am I pee'ing??"
I quickly phoned daddy, to let him know where your big sister and I would be, oh and by the way, I think my water just broke. He rushed home so he could accompany us, just in case this was the day we were to meet our little "me too".

When Doctor Moore entered the room I was placed in, I let him know, that I thought my water broke. No,o, there was no gushing but I know that I was not peeing, yet I was. He quickly stated that he doubted that was the case but would test the "pee" to be certain. "Well, I guess your having a baby, today" he stated, upon his return. I was not ready. It was at least two weeks before I was scheduled to have a c-section. Two weeks before Papi and Tita would be here to watch and care for Ellie, while I stayed in the hospital. Two weeks before the house could be spotless and ready for you. The dishwasher had not been unloaded, there was still a pile of laundry to get to. You weren't suppose to be here until the end of the month, not the middle. So.I.Freaked.Out. Poor daddy. He rushed home, phoned Grandma Karen to let her know what had happened and if she could come up. Then he proceeded to empty out the dishwasher, quickly throw the laundry into the washer, grab my hospital bag, take Ellie to McDonalds for a Happy Meal and explained what the next couple of hours/days would be like. As soon as Grandma walked thru the door, he was off to the hospital, to be by my side, where I had already been prepped and (im)patiently awaited his return.

I knew you were a boy but daddy did not. Like with your big sister, he wanted your announcement to be a surprise. And it was! When Doctor Moore announced you were a boy, daddy was shocked! He had thought that Ellie would be getting a sister instead of a brother. He cried. I cried. You cried. We all cried.  He was so happy. We both were. We were complete. A boy for him, to do boy stuff with. A boy for me to love and nurture. A brother for Ellie, her first best friend and playmate for life. She would always have a piece of us, long after we are gone. She would never be alone in this world, as long as she has you.

And as the first year flew by, it was obvious, how much your big sister loved you. She always had to touch you. Even though, she was a little rough with her touches and squeezes, that would occasionally make you cry. Kinda like how you are with your little sister, Evie, now. You had a full head of gorgeous locks, making any bald daddy  man jealous. And you were just a big snuggler. You still are. Daddy would rush home, just so he could give you your bedtime bottle. He would make up these songs for you and sing you to sleep. Ask me to show you some footage!

The second year, again, I was just as shocked by how fast it had gone. You could walk, talk, would answer to Pooh Bear. Your word for Daddy was Lalo. This was also the age that I took away your bottle. You were starting to get into trains and I had gotten you this train cup that had a lid and a hole for a straw. I thought for sure I could easily convert you to a cup drinker instead of bottle drinker. "Pooh? Do you want some milk?" you quickly got up from playing, rushed into the kitchen, all excited. "Here. See? It's a TRAIN cup." You gave me this whatthehellisthisshit? look. Then added, "no baba, no choochoo!" as you waved your chubby little hands, making the no movement. That was the last time you would even attempt to drink milk. And I have tried many times. I now give you calcium gummies.

The third year? Just as surprised another year is now in the books. You are a very active, rather rambunctious little guy. You love Toy Story, Thomas, and Bob the Builder. You're a little clown with a sense of humor that loves to make all around you laugh. And you are a little flirt. We noticed that when we went to Disney. It only took you two weeks to be fully potty trained. You often state that Daddy is your best friend but that you want to marry Mama or Ellie. You love dogs. You are a big time stuffed animal lover. All in all, you are a wonderful little boy.

And this year? Number four? I suppose I will always be surprised by how fast each year flies by. Your Auntie threw you a little dinosaur party. You received a ton of new favorite toys (that no doubt will be, all over the house).  You played with your older cousins. I look at Emily (who was 6 months when I met her) and I see this beautiful, intelligent thirteen year old soon to be fourteen year old. I look at Alex (who was two when I met him) and here he is, senior year. Last year at home before heading off to college. Independent of what had always been. Anxiously awaiting to start a life of unknown. But his own. And I am well aware of what their mother must be feeling when she looks their way. Wasn't it just yesterday that I held you? Held your hand? Kissed your owies? We played pretend? They have grown up to be wonderful young people. I can't find it in myself to say "young adults" because they are not. At least not yet. They'll always be 6 months and two.

And then I look at my own children. The oldest is six, the youngest is almost six months. And my middle? He's four. You are so much like your father, I am told. Still very rambunctious, still a little clown, you still love "stuffies", Daddy is still your best friend. You want to marry Evie. You love super heroes. You still like to hold my hand and give me sloppy kisses. You and Ellie are best friends, you love each other and occasionally fight but at the end of the day, you need one another. I pray to God that that need never, ever changes. 
You are a wonderful little human being. For one so small, it is clear how much love and compassion lives inside you. And you are extremely smart!! You started pre k this month and you absolutely love it!
You are such a little helper at home. Although, no offense, not so much when it comes to cleaning your room. That takes a little pushing.

As for the title? Growing up, Grandma Karen would mean to call daddy "Chris" but instead say Auntie Laura's name. So daddy (being a stinker) would say, "ah, I'm Chris, the second born. You know, the one with the penis." from how often this story is told, I have a feeling I'll be hearing the same words from you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I tell the three of you, often, how much I love you. But you will never quite understand the depth my love goes for you (three). How could you possibly understand? You're still so little. I suppose you will, once you get married and have children of your own. Until then, please, don't be in such a rush to grow up. Stay little and enjoy playing with your dinosaurs, your Legos, and your super heroes. Sometimes mamas like to watch their babies, when their babies don't know their mamas are watching. And if I give you an unexpected hug and I squeeze just a little too tightly, it's because I just "saw" you getting ready to go off into the world, independently of me.