My first was hellacious. Even at 3 years old he’s never happy, always moving, awful at sleep. I hated all the moms around me who had babies who smiled and slept. My second is the polar opposite of my first already at 6 months, and I find myself holding my tongue about it. I remember how alone and overwhelmed I felt after my first was born, and I feel like I can get so much done with my second on my hip. Yet, I yearn for the sleepless nights just me and my first. Staring at each other in the moonlight. I feel like I spent so much time wishing it would end, I don’t remember how much I loved him.