When G was born, he spent some time in the NICU. He'd had trouble breathing regular air, and needed an oxygen hood. I spent nine days in the hospital, waiting for him. My husband visited us daily, and B stayed with his godparents during the entire ordeal.
When we returned home, G slept in the snuggle nest in our king sized bed while Josh slept in the guest room so our night time feedings/my snoring wouldn't keep him awake. As G grew, he often would fuss as we were all busy cleaning the house. Josh would set him in his high chair, face him towards me and say, "There's your Mama!" Sure enough, baby would calm down.
G has pulled a few times of screaming at his godmom's house as I walked out. It makes no sense. He loves that woman, and asks about her whenever we aren't there. He fusses about nursery, too. His lip pokes out as soon as we park the car. I'll toss him to the worker, grab a pager, and reassure her that he'll raise Cain for about three minutes, then be fine. He is, too, til he sees me walk through the door, then he'll turn on the waterworks. If I hadn't known better, I might think he'd been crying the entire time.
"Mama, hold you!" in Wal-mart as I'm trying to push a huge cart of groceries. My motto is, "If he'd have been my first one, he'd have torn my nerves straight up."
Don't get me wrong. This kid is overall pretty laid back. He'll laugh and play and be generally jovial. Still, he wants mama when he wants mama. It can be draining sometimes!
Then just the other day, as we were reading a book with photographs of babies, we came across a crying baby. "He's sad," I noted.
"Yeah," G said, "He needs my Mama."