This precious bunny turns nine today. My firstborn. Can’t believe how grown up she is now, and how sweet. I went into labour early. Two weeks early, to be exact, which isn’t mean to happen with first babies – everybody knows that. My other half knew that, which is why he booked so many appointments leading up to her due date, “so I could get them out of the way before the baby came”. I called him early on a Friday afternoon to tell him my waters had broken, and by the time I got into his work two hours later he was still on the phone trying to reschedule people. Turns out that bubby had stage fright though, and didn’t show up until last thing that Sunday, and that was with an awful lot of help.
That’s typical of her, that is. Always ahead of where she needs to be, but does the last-minute panic and doubts herself, and needs loads of coaxing.
My second-born’s birth experience was completely different. He was a (ooooouuuuch) posterior delivery. That’s typical of him, too: right on time, but has a knack for making things much more complicated than they need to be.
And the third was straightforward. Just like him.
Have you ever noticed a pattern between birth and personality? Hmmmm. Have you ever noticed that I can read something deep and meaningful into just about anything?