I sat behind a mom with a newborn yesterday at church. I couldn’t see the baby because it was underneath a nursing blanket the entire time but I could tell it was a new baby because it made the most precious sounds that only a newborn can. Instead of paying attention to the sermon, I listened to the baby. After she fussed for a millisecond, the mom began to nurse her and I could hear the tiny gulps of milk.
Oh my goodness, my heart.
My youngest is now eight years old and I’ve always felt our family was complete after she was born. Six kids are more than enough, right? I’d like to think so.
But that sweet little baby though.
So precious. I can remember what it was like to hold my newborn babies. My favorite thing ever was inhaling that lovely newborn scent. To nuzzle my face in their soft, downy neck. To be their everything. Hmmm. Maybe I’m feeling a little hormonal. Maybe I’m sick of the teenage boy stage (my lungs can only take inhaling so much Axe spray). I didn’t even get to see this little baby nursing under a blanket, but the mere sound of it triggered something inside me.
Later on that day we decided to take advantage of the sunny Southern California weather and take our kids to the park. As I was standing there watching my daughters play, a woman who I knew through a mutual friend walked up to me and we started chatting. In her arms was a delicious two month old baby girl. She was in that perfect butterball stage, past the fragile newborn stage but not quite in the sturdy hi mom, I’m six months and can sit up by myself now stage. As her mother talked, the baby fidgeted around because the bright sun was in her eyes. I strategically placed myself so my shadow could shield her from the sun and within a few minutes she fell asleep. Splayed out on her back on top of her mom’s chest, her chubby feet dangling. As we chatted, I couldn’t help but touch her soft little feet.
I know for a fact that this baby yearning doesn’t have anything to do with my biological clock ticking. I’m turning 42 next month and um, no thanks–this factory done closed. My kids are too young to make me a grandmother so I’m just going to have to chalk it up as a yearning for my own children when they were babies. It was such a precious time in our lives. So simple, so much happiness. Their loveliness, their delicate little hands and feet, the sweet sounds they made–it was so intoxicating.
This explains why my husband and I welcomed each of our six children into the world.
Funny thing. When you are enjoying the blissful thoughts of a new baby, your mind automatically blocks out diaper explosions at the mall, colicky cries in the wee hours of the morning, the inability to eat a meal in peace, scabby nipples and hemorrhoids.
Enjoy your little ones, friends.