Oh Baby Baby

Just yesterday I was saying to a friend that every single maternal bone in my body, if I ever even had one, is gone. That I see a baby and all I can think is I’m so glad it’s not mine. No more colicky nights, no more mastitis, no more lugging baby bucket car seats. Been there, more than done that, and I’m not looking back.

I happily volunteered to look after baby M today, happy to give two tired parents a literal breath of fresh air. A couple of hours with a newborn, swoop in, swoop out, then leave them with the ongoingness of it all.

Or so I thought.

I sat with that little noodle nestled in the crook of my arm, watched her make her sly little half smiles, and darn it all if some of those maternal bones didn’t start creaking and groaning.

The smell! The tiny little solid weight of her body! Her squidgy little mouth puckering, her solemn eyes.

In my eagerness to move forward with my life, I think I might have been forgetting how delicious some of those moments were when my babies were babies.

I took picture after picture in the vain hopes of catching on film the exquisiteness of her newness, but even as I did so, I knew I couldn’t. None of the pictures captured the essence of that little self. She and I stared at each other until she fell asleep, and shortly after that, her parents came home. I left, feeling nostalgic in spite of myself.