It has almost been six months now since the birth of the baby. He seems to reach a new level of adorable each and every day with this cannibalistic growling and squeals of delight. He has found a new love in bouncing - trying to jump as high as he can. Like his dad, he seems to be an adrenaline junkie, cooing and giggling in ecstasy when his swing is turned up to break-neck speeds. And, like me, he squeaks and has the palest skin imaginable. It is just amazing to watch the little one thoughtfully taking in his surroundings or down more baby food than I could have thought possible in a single sitting.

I do, however, keep comparing the experience raising this one to my oldest. The difference has just been incredible. When, I had my eldest, I was 23 and had never even set foot near a baby. I was totally lost at what I was doing, but was determined to try my best.

When my oldest son was a baby, I remember finding a rat in his bassinet. The hairy thing was chewing on the side of his quilt. The entire apartment was infested with them. His baby clothes routinely had holes in them from being nibbled upon. It was my greatest fear that he be bitten, so he slept on my chest, making it easier for me to guard him against them.

When, the power would go out when my ex-husband spent the bill money on drugs and alcohol, I would stand, holding the baby in the dark - scared that a rat would take the opportunity in the dark to go after him. Maybe I gave the rodents too much credit for forethought and planning, but I was a scared young mother who didn’t know what to do.

I am grateful beyond words that I don’t have to worry about rats, flies, roaches or any other creatures this time around. I’m not sure I could stomach all that worry and panic again.

As a baby, the oldest didn’t coo or giggle. He didn’t make any sounds really. Only rarely crying. He was a good baby. But, there was more to it. There is one instance that I remember the most vividly. My ex-husband and I were arguing again. It was maybe a week before I left him.

He had told me that things were over with his girlfriend and we were actually having a decent conversation. While talking, he received a text message and sent one back. I didn’t think anything about it. After about an hour, he was getting ready for work and I needed to make a call. His phone was our only phone, so when I picked it up – it was still open to the text messages. He had told the girlfriend, “She is in the room right now. I’ll call you in a minute.” She – meaning me.

I was hurt more than furious, but both emotions were there. I told him what I had seen, which I probably shouldn’t have. It quickly escalated to him throwing things around the bedroom and slamming doors. I sat on the edge of the bed, the baby – eight months old - in my arms. I rocked the baby back and forth, so he wouldn’t be scared, but his eyes were wide and staring right at me.

My ex-husband threw the cell phone in the toilet, punched the wall and screamed at the top of his lungs. I should have just stayed quiet. I should never have opened my mouth. But, I did. I ask him, “Why?” What was it that made him lie to me. I didn’t care about the affair. I didn’t care about her taking precedence. I didn’t care about the days he would spend away with her. And, I didn’t care about their mutual love of drugs. I just didn’t care about any of that. What bothered me was that he couldn’t stop lying.

So, there, cradling the baby in my arms, I was knocked over on the bed and my face stung all the way down to my cheekbone. I half expected it, but the slap was harder than I was prepared for. As my ex-husband stomped out of the room exasperated with me, the baby just stared up at me as I started to cry. The baby didn’t seem upset in the least. Just watching.

That is when I realized that the baby was thinking this was normal. And, maybe this was why he never made a sound. It is probably why he had a trauma induced speech disorder and barely spoke in front of other people until after he turned 3.

It is such a relief knowing that my youngest son will not be brought up in that same state of fear, but it makes me wish all the more that I could somehow go back and fix the babyhood of the oldest. I feel guilty enjoying the coos and giggles now.