The Circle of Life

Yesterday afternoon I dared to venture out of my house to visit a friend. She greeted me from the door of her home: beautifully decorated for the holidays. Inside, a freshly brewed cup of coffee sat on her kitchen counter top. She gave me a much needed hug while holding her newest baby grandson in her arms. I hadn't seen the baby since shortly after he was born. How he had changed during the last few weeks! Dressed in a dapper red plaid shirt and reindeer printed corduroy overhauls, he stared at me with cautious blue eyes as if to say, "Who do you think YOU are?"

I admit it: I melt at the sight of a baby. I love them and they typically love me. I think my ease with babies stems from being the oldest of five children. As a teen I babysat for my siblings more than I did anything else (that I can remember). Sometimes I resented it. Later in life, I became thankful for it. All of that experience with babies and young children helped me slide into natural motherhood the second my own were born. I've been drawn to babies ever since; soothing them from frazzled mothers whenever the opportunity presented itself.

As soon as I sat on my friend's white leather sofa, she knowingly placed her infant grandson in my arms. I kissed his mostly bald head; feeling soft whispers of lightly tufted hair against my cheek. I inhaled the newness of him, counted his tiny blond eyelashes and nuzzled his pink pudgy cheeks. He was beautiful. I can't begin to describe the feeling inside of me as this tender infant scrunched up against my melting chest. Pure joy?

Before long my friend brought me a bottle of formula so I could feed him. The little guy latched on to the nipple and gulped frantically. His eyes opened wide. This time he looked up at me with undeniable trust and contentment. As I gazed down at this angel of wonders nestled in my arms I flushed with happiness.

The circle of life.