WELCOME BABY BROTHER!

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For the history books, my second grandson was born Sunday, July 20, 2014 at 4:40 AM, weighing 8 lbs. 5 oz., measuring 20.9 inches. He entered this world as smoothly and conveniently as possible for all concerned, only several days past his expected due date. His two-year-old brother was two weeks late and had to be encouraged to leave his safe, comfortable home  — still took his time for a day or so after labor was induced.  His mommy was exhausted and his daddy weary.

I’d gone to bed about 10PM Saturday night, read for a while, then went right to sleep — usually takes me a while to drift off.  The phone rang  four times, just rousing me slightly, and I turned over.  It rang again. Who could be calling in the middle of the night?  It was only 11:30PM —  my son saying his wife was having contractions.  I was on standby notice to mind Number One Son.

I threw some clothes in a bag, scooped up Angel, and drove to Baltimore in my pajamas. Arrived in under an hour, saw mommy and daddy off to the hospital, checked on my sleeping grandson, and Angel and I went to bed. Wonder of wonders, I had one of the best sleeps of my life, awakened at 8:30AM with the happy news.  My son told me he thought I’d be tossing and turning all night, so had called his wife’s mom in Virginia to relieve me. So when she arrived I went to visit the happy parents and their healthy, handsome new son.  He fit as cozily in my arms as his big brother did.

My first grandson is still  deciding whether this baby idea is as good as advertised.  His parents bought him a toy stroller with a boy doll strapped inside which he occasionally pushed around the house, though he preferred playing with his cars and trains.  They promoted him to a big boy’s bed with a railing attached for now.  He has a T-shirt announcing “I’m the Big Brother.”  He met the baby Sunday afternoon, seemed excited and curious, smiling as he gently touched his brother’s face, calling him by his new name — but when the baby began to exercise his lungs,  looked very thoughtful.

Times have  changed since I was a girl. I was almost seven when my brother was born, confused when my grandmother came to mind me and my little sister — and our mother went missing for a week.  When our dad brought her home with our infant sibling they told this convoluted tale: “We were driving by Mary Immaculate Hospital and Dr. Morton was standing outside. We stopped to say hello, he told us some nice new boy babies had just arrived, and invited us in to pick one out.  So we did.” And I bought that.

My son took mommy and baby home today, and I’m off soon to visit the four of them.  Before I do, this is a good  place to repeat the deep thought I shared with you some time ago:

A rose is proof enough of God for me.  And a baby is proof of His love.

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