Noticing my first-born son's apparent case of denial in the approaching birth of his little sister, I found out about a Sibling Class that NYU's Tisch Hospital was offering for families of mothers who would be delivering there. For a reasonable fee of $25, it was scheduled for Monday from 4-5 p.m.
As we began our quick trek into Manhattan, I geared up for the oppresive heat and my soon to be swollen feet. Tank top? Check. Flip flops? Check. Bottle of water? Check. Postive attitude? Ehhh... chhheck. Off we were. We left at a somewhat reasonable time (meaning 'Gutierrez time' which usually works for us but for no one else whose life revolves around an actual schedule). But what we did not take into account is that the 6 train drops us off on Park Avenue and NYU Hospital is on First.
Running through the streets and then through the lobby as full-throttle as my 36-week physique would allow, and I use the term "physique" quite loosely, we sped by the celebrity and ex-husband of Uma Thurman, Ethan Hawke. We didn't stop to say hi, although Manny offered him a nod of his head as if to say, "I recognize you but won't bother you." He was wearing a '#1 Dad' hat. "Cute," I thought.
As we raced up the elevators and into the 13th floor waiting room, there were 5 other kids, sitting so attently in their seats, listening to the instructor read a book about Arthur and his new sibling. I always hate walking in late to something like a class, although for some reason in college it wasn't too bad, or frequent of me (I promise). The other Mommy's gave me that "half smile" as I apologized for our tardiness and as my eyes fixated on a chair in the back, BANG! My Maclaren smacks a really, really, really pregnant woman in the knee. "Sorry! I am so sorry!" is all I can muster, embarrassment rushing to my face. "That's ok," she says, with an annoyed irk in her face. Alas, the Gutierrez's had arrived.
We take our seats. The book continues. Then it's time for a movie about the behaviors of babies. Then a fake baby is passed around and as Gabe is handed the life-like plastic infant, he is oh-so-gentle. He holds the head, as he was taught, and just kind of smiles for... About 3.5 seconds. He passes it on to the next sibling-in-waiting.
The instructor asks them, "Who gets presents on their birthday?" Every kid at the table raises their hand except Gabe.
"Do you get presents for your birthday, Gabriel?" she asks.
He shakes his head "No."
Great. Now I'm not just the late Mommy, but the one who doesn't get her kid anything for his birthday.
"Well," she starts to explain, "your little brother or sister are going to get presents for their birthday, coming soon... What will you get your new sibling Gabriel?"
"A Thomas the Train and Henry," he replies.
She looks at me for translation. I explain. "Oh, okkkkk..." she smiles.
I make the mental note to take him to the toy store this weekend to buy Little Sister a train and sneak into the buggy/cart/basket a gift that will be from Little Sister. What better way than to buy his love?
We then get a tour of "Mommy's room" where she will be staying and they get to see the newborn babies in the nursey area. As the instructor is leading the kids through the tour, all of the children are holding on to their mom or dad's hands. Gabe and a female sidekick march their way to the front of the line, sans parents. "Hooray for my independent man!" is what I am thinking. "He is such a little man!" I beam with pride. Then the tour is over and it's time to go.
"I don't want to go. I want to stay," he tells me.
"But honey it's time to go. We'll be back when Little Sister is born."
"No... I want to stay," his little face scrunching up.
I look at Manny for a solution.
"Well, we can't tell him we're just going to leave him here because you know he'll be fine with that," he says.
Suddenly my Little Independent Man is a little too independent for my liking.
"Gabe, we have to go."
After threatening "you're going to get in the stroller if you don't listen" about 3 times (my limit before "the voice" comes out and my eyes start bogging out of my head), he walked out of the hospital like a good boy, and then asked for the stroller.
"It's Gabe's nap time," he tells me. I need to get me a Maclaren.
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