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Seven years ago today my oldest was born. I was 26 years old, I had a baby and then the hospital, unbeknownst to them, sent two people home with a newborn who had no clue what they were supposed to be doing. I remember crying the first two days because I was worried that I would be a terrible mother. This emotion was probably due to the fact that I did not sleep the first two nights home for fear that he would stop breathing. And I am not even going to go into the amount of stress I had about not being sure how much he was getting when nursing. Being a first time mother was HARD! I remember when my second was born I thought to myself, why did I think this newborn thing was so hard? They don't do anything but eat and sleep! What was I so worried about?
There is something to be said about the oldest child. They hold a special place in your heart, not because you love them more than your other children, but because they are the ones that teach you how to be a parent. Unlike my other two children, who simply entered our "been there, done that" world, the oldest continues to introduce me to things that I have never experienced before. Sleeping through the night, baby food, school, athletics, talking back, sleepovers, homework. The list goes on and on. He is not only my first child but continues to be my first at everything that involves being a parent.