As I update my status implying that I enjoy when my little one is gone and it's more peaceful in my house, it occurs to me that I do not celebrate my daughter in the same way as I do my son. While the two pregnancies were basically the same, from the moment I held each baby, I knew they were very different in personality. Let me take you back to April 2000....
Adam's arrival began just as we were going to sleep after celebrating our 2nd wedding anniversary. After 18 hours of typical labor, I delivered Adam with the mix of drugs and doctor's assistance. Having been pre-determined he had been swallowing meconium, they whisked him away under the bright lights and busy hands of various nurses. We waited (im)patiently for him to be brought to us so we could meet him while he cried non-stop in the nearby work area. The video that was being recorded during this time revealed something very telling about Adam's personality or "bent". He kept his little arms outstretched in the direction and sound of my voice as the doc and nurses and I discussed his name, how much he might weigh, etc....
Finally it was my turn to hold him, still crying inconsolably despite being clean and warm now. However, the moment they placed him in my arms and he heard my voice, he instantaneously quieted down and opened his eyes to watch me. In that moment I knew Adam and I would share a bond that would be natural and easy.
Fast forward to November a few years later. After only dilating to 2 by the 8th hour, I prepared for my second delivery to be as long or nearly as long as Adam's. As is such her personality of "I'll do it when I'm ready" in 30 minutes time, I fully dilated to 10. Yep, she was stubborn on my time, but cooperative on hers. I delivered Elise using that same mix of drugs and same great doctor. This time, though, she was placed in my arms immediately upon her arrival--all gooey and slimy (and beautiful) 6 pounds of her. She, too, was crying, aware of the bright lights and commotion around her. This time, though, the sound of my voice did not comfort her. She continued her little sheep's bleat until she was in the arms of her daddy. Yep, Daddy's girl from the moment they met.
From those moments their personalities have continued to reflect their births: Adam often preferring me and Elise choosing her daddy's loving arms over mine. God has designed each child so uniquely and individually, I am stunned sometimes that they are from the same two parents, being raised in the same home and under the same general parenting style. Nature versus Nurture? I think you know where I stand
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