THIS BABE: A LESSON IN BIRTHORDER

 Vye is our third born.  Our third of four girls.  She has always made parenting easy.  Her labour, although my most painful, was like a work day.  My contractions got really heavy around 8 in the morning at she was born at 3:26 in the afternoon in the beautiful sunshine.  A smile graced her face at 2 days old.  She was born happy.  There were never inconsolable cries.  Our evenings were routine and simple.  I could knit and watch a show while she sat contentedly bobbing in her bouncy chair.

 Readers may think I'm biased, maybe even delusional, but ask anyone of my friends or librarian folk (I am a frequent flyer of the library), she is a doll, has always had an electric personality and happiness in life is her thang.  A little light that never stops beaming.

 Until the birth of Ivy, she was our littlest.  Subconsciously, I feel she knew.  Maybe from inside the womb she could hear her the tests put forth by her sensitive, spirited Eldest sister and the dramatic creativity of her other sister on me.  Maybe when she was welcomed to the world by these loud sisters who had pretty established roles, she thought, "Hey!  They've paved the way.  I've got this."  Maybe there is this innate thing that says I am the youngest and I'm born to be chill and go with the flow.  Whatever it is, she fits birth order theories to a tee.

 Having a "Vye" makes the days where Ivy is slung to me all day, crying like I haven't nursed her in days, bearable.  It makes the moments where Charlotte is defiant, head strong and on the verge of tears, not so bad.  And when Harriet is loud and fearlessly taking on those strange experiments and ideas in her head, it seems more like child's play than intentional annoyance.  All because we have a Vye.

 The nights have been sleepless.  The days long although the daylight short.  But in the darkness there are these bright, quirky eyes.  There is a daughter who is always happiest when others are happy.  Offering hugs when she senses I need them.  Retelling stories of bats flying in my room or Ivy smiling at her.  She knows her catch phrases make me giggle and will always put on a show when it is needed to lighten the mood.

Although no one said parenting is easy, it is in those moments when I feel like I am failing, when I can't hear my thoughts over the drumming of spoons on pots, when I feel utterly drained of energy, that I am thankful for a Vye.

 Our children are all amazing blessings.  But they are all inherently different.  I love my strong, passionate, go by the rules Eldest babe.  I love my loud, fearless, determined middle babe, whom thinks the rules need not apply and withholds her feelings.  I love my 8 week hold who desires my touch throughout the day and cries in terror when she can no longer feel my heartbeat.  I love my third born Violet for making all her sisters lovable throughout the days of confusion and being pulled in different directions because they all have different physical and emotional needs.  I love my Violet because she makes my life easy.

(DISCLAIMER:  Vye seems to fit the birth order theories about third borns and their tendency to be awesome, easy going and delightful.  Please don't use this post as a reason to go for that third.  Results may vary based on genetics, gender and the fact that it is just a theory and I'm just a mama blogging.  But hey!  You may get lucky - read into the double entendre)