by Cathy
I never thought I could love another baby like I’ve loved my
two daughters; but this week, it happened. This baby, the one that gave its mommy frequent nausea throughout the pregnancy, swelled up her feet to the size of decorative Mylar balloons, didn’t allow her
to sleep in a bed but in a recliner for the last three months and put her
through 22 hours of labor – that baby is the new love of my life.
This past Monday, the first child of my one and only sister
was born. I became a real aunt and my daughters became real cousins – not "aunts"
and "cousins" of respectable friends or acquaintances, (which are also a blessing),
or once and twice removed cousins. but real honest-to-goodness-blood-related
relatives. And to make things even more sugary and spicey and everything nicey?
That baby is also a little girl!
My sister’s mother-in-law had two boys and she had always,
down in the maternal depths of her heart, longed for a girl. In the hospital,
she was beyond the moon as she whispered to that little burrito-wrapped, pink
bundle in her arms about all the dolls they’ll buy and all the cookies they
will bake. My daughters? They are thrilled to have another little girl to play
with and even more importantly, dress up. That baby will end up the trendiest little fashionista in the burbs. And oh the shopping that will be done!!
Even more thrilling for me, is that I now can pass down the
totes upon totes of European shoes, faux fur coats, frilly hats and holiday
dresses I have saved from my girls. Deep down I had hoped that my sister would
have a girl, even though she always told me that she sees herself with boys.
She also told me that she saw herself with four kids. Let’s give her some time
on that one and check back in about two years – just as this now unscathed,
perfect little human will be entering the Terrible Twos.
Seeing her now, so tiny, all unknowing and innocent,
sleeping away in her little bassinet in the hospital nursery, I marveled at how
awesome a task it is to take this blank slate and mold, shape and gently nudge
it – physically, emotionally and mentally – into a well-rounded individual. I
sometimes wish I could start all over again, now that I am seasoned as a
parent, a disciplinarian, an organizer, more of an adult. It just seems so much
easier when they are so small, giving credence to the old adage of Small Kids =
Small Problems, Bigger Kids = Bigger Problems.
So I told my sister, even though she doesn’t see it yet
because she is too wrapped up in the surrealness of it all, too focused on the
post-pains of childbirth and the shock of falling into caring for another human
being and just hasn’t fully grasped the lifechanging aspects of it all yet, to truly enjoy every little moment - to enjoy the nights she will stand over her crib and cry as she watches this little miracle of life sleep or revel in every little tight-fisted grip the baby takes of her finger.
My mother once told me, as she sat next to me and watched as I held my infants while they smiled and frowned and twitched their little smushy faces as they slept, that this was when God was handing them their destiny; the frowns were for the tough times, the laughs were for the good times and the twitches were for all the uncertainties in between.
Now as I watch my sister take on the gargantuan uncertainties of motherhood, I know one thing for certain: the love she will feel for this baby, this piece of her heart that is beating outside of her body, will never be rivaled by any other love she will ever experience.
