I remember the soft white dress my mom wore in the photograph, on the cusp of birth. There was a soft fuzz to the image, her friend laughed, "is my eye-sight going, or is this supposed to be out of focus?" The softness spoke to the moment, as she awaited becoming a mother the third time.
Each time is so different, just as each child is full of new emotions, adventures, trials and successes. The first-born seems to be the trial run, the experiment. Those early years with them, you start navigating parenting. Then the second child arrives and you discover your heart expands with all the love in the world for them, just as it did the first time around. You continue sailing through unchartered territory, admiring these children you call your own, when years from now you reminisce about these times, holding that photograph close, when you were eagerly on the dawn of your second-born.