Directly after Tristan turned 3 days old, the little guys arrived at the hotel. They blew into the room like a hurricane, demanding to “see it”. To this point Tristan’s world had primarily been adults, petting his face and talking softly, occasionally laying hands on him and weeping while quoting Isaiah or whatever. The onslaught of sound that is his siblings came as a surprise, but he handled it well.
Brynn held him for a long time, seeming to have a natural knack for babying. “Lookit his little hands! OOH, look at his little face.” Once the boys had a turn holding him, she went and found a pacifier and stood at the ready.”When he cries, I will PUT this in.” she told us. We had to prevent her several times from forcibly shoving the paci in his mouth.
Toby held him for a minute, and seemed to really like him, and then took a few experimental swipes at him, claiming they were “pats”. I tried to intervene and hold Toby, sure that his heart was breaking at being replaced, but he was pretty busy. Later he told me he was ready for our own family to live at our own house. Me too, bud. Me too.
R2 was a little resistant about being given a baby, but he settled in after a little and looked very closely at the squawking bundle of human in his arms.
There’s probably a deep psychological edge running here about acceptance and rejection and grace and family loving each other, but there’s time for that. For that one night, as chaotic as it was, we were all together, and it was beautiful.