One of them hit me the other day, holding a crying, unconsolable baby all on my own, trying to soothe and failing miserably for minute after endless minute. And I remembered, all at once, how hard it is to hold a screaming newborn and not be able to fix what is wrong, because you don't actually know what that is. And how hard it is to be the one and only person in charge of a helpless little baby. And I thought, suddenly, Oh my gosh. I forgot about this.
And then, twenty minutes later with a little head resting on my chest, softly breathing and cozily ensconced in sleep, I thought, again, And I forgot about this.
Is there anything more wonderful, really, than the weight of a sleeping baby against your shoulder?
Its a sort of roller coaster, the waiting. Because I have instants where I think with complete and utter paralysis of the moment when the baby is crying, and Gracie is crying, and I am all alone at home and I can't make it better for both of them.
But then I also have moments when I see maybe a photo series like this, and I remember the rush of love and the feeling of total faith in the Spirit to help me know what my girl needed before she could verbalize (and what she still needs, and what I need, even now and on throughout our lives). And I remember this sweet, squishy, just-born face:
And I suddenly just can't wait to see the new squishy face of our sweet brand new baby, and how Gracie looks at her new little sibling, and to feel what it feels like to be the four of us curled up on the couch in the evening or holding hands at the park. How can one person feel so much at one time?
Keep growing, little baby. You are already very, very loved.
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