Baby Love

Yesterday was a practically perfect day. It was our nephew's first communion. 

T and I sat in a pew with all the other relatives. She leaned over and whispered, "This is the second time in two weeks that we are sitting in a Catholic Church and we haven't burst into flames. Maybe God does actually like gay people." 

Oh, honey lamb....I think that God knows who the real deals are and who the fakers are. Being gay has little to nothing to do with this. I have known some very devoted, so called pious people who were incredibly mean spirited. The kindest, best man that I ever knew was an atheist who was a janitor in a synagogue. The truth is in the pudding. 

I was reminded once again, though, how LONG the Catholic mass is. And my bones were reminded of how much kneeling and standing go into this mass. I did what I did at the first mass. I used it for meditation. I kept getting interrupted by all that kneeling and standing, but it was a nice, quiet, introspective time. 

My nephew looked handsome in his starched white shirt, dress pants, and tie. There was only one girl in his class and boy was she decked out. The veil alone sat nearly a foot off of her head and her dress actually had a train. 

A child bride. I can't go there. 

So, I will go somewhere else. The celebration afterwards was held at a lovely little Mexican restaurant in a private room. There was delicious horchata coffee for me and enchiladas, tacos, and beans and rice for the rest of the party. 

But, the best part? The babies. Our niece, Christina, recently gave birth to twin girls. They are now nearly four months old and I will just come out and say it: 

I was and forever will be, a baby hog. I reached for one of the girls and cuddled her, immediately thrown back into my days of carrying a baby on my hip ALL DAY LONG. Somehow, you forget the tedium of it afterwards and only remember the wonderful bits. That little tiny person curling up into you, pulling back a wobbly head to give you a toothless, grinning gurgle. The way they look at the bottle of milk like a little crack addict, reaching towards that milk with their whole body, yearning. And then...latching and sucking down that delicious sweet white milk and having a voracious snack...lips smacking greedily.

I didn't even mind the burping. 

Afterwards, little Lydia sat blearily on my lap. I held her with extreme gentleness, remembering how any jostling would have set my L off with a projectile vomit spew. She looked up at me and we locked eyes. Total trust. Total need. Total dependence. 

I was smitten. Totally and completely. Told her mother that T and I would babysit for free at any time, they had only to call us. Her mother smiled tiredly and said she might be calling. 

But, they probably won't. Everyone is so worried about tiring me these days. And in her eyes, I saw her extreme fatigue. One of her daughters, the one I did not get to hold, has colic, and is extremely fussy. L had colic. I well remember those first few months when I felt as if she never slept and when I walked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, with a screaming child. 

And she has twins.  She DOES have a husband, though, who is a great helpmate. I didn't have one of those, but I also did not have another infant to care for, either. 

I held that baby for the ENTIRE two hours that we spent at the party. T kept inquiring if I was tired, needed to leave. In fact, when we had arrived, we had an agreement that we would only stay long enough to watch our nephew open his gifts. Yet, something in me was not ready to let go of that precious little girl. She snuggled against me, stretching out her little bootied feet and drooling all over her spit towel. Once, I held her across from me and we just looked at each other and smiled. 

And then she laughed. This tiny little baby fairy laugh. I turned to T. 

"I think we need to take her home with us," I said, smiling. She thought I was kidding.....

But, I could feel my arms tiring. I could feel T's impatience to leave. She had school work to grade. Eventually, I handed the sleeping angel over to her mother. 

My soul felt lighter, though. Babies will do that to you. Babies could end wars. 

Babies are sheer magic. 

I went to bed at 9 last night and slept soundly until nearly noon today. I didn't awaken once with any charley horses, bad dreams, or aching bones. 

I slept like....well....a baby. 

 My soul was in blissful peace. 

Thank you, dearest Lydia. Thank you.