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I was 12 when my brother was born. When my mom first checked with the doctor, she was told that she was having a girl. With two girls, one 12 and the other 8, at home, my parents did not exactly say they were disappointed but we knew that a boy would have been more welcomed. A complete trio. Furthermore, my mother was already 36 at that time, so to try for a fourth child, would probably have been out of the question for her.
So imagine our surprise, when we got a brother instead. My mom always says that she feels my brother was a gift from God as he was totally unexpected but has fulfilled her every expectations. I remember the pride on my father's face when he came home from the hospital, proudly announcing “It's a boy!”.
The first moment I laid eyes on my brother, I was shocked at how tiny he was. A quiet baby, that didn't cry much, who looked at you in wonder and seemed to enjoy the prospect of sleeping. His eyes were huge, taking in the scenes around him, twisting his head to get a clearer picture of his surroundings. He was so little and cute, it was love at first sight for me.
My brother was an easy, pleasant baby. No loud screaming cries from him. It was just short whimpers when he wanted milk or a change of diapers. He was so quiet that our neighbors used to ask if we really had a baby in the house, as they could not hear any wailing as would have been expected from a newborn baby. I wonder if they realize that he makes up for that lack of noise in the early days of his life, by blasting all the rock songs nowadays. Sorry neighbors, you did ask why he was so quiet when he was a baby, well he's making up for it now.
