Wanna hold the baby?

Whenever a friend has a baby, there's the inevitable visit. And within that inevitable visit is the inevitable question: "Wanna hold the baby?"


I always struggle a little bit with that one.

On the one hand... yes, I would like to hold the baby. I adore holding babies. They are, for the most part, incredibly peaceful in those first couple of weeks. They smell wonderful. They're warm. They make some interesting noises. They have a very calming effect.

On the other hand... no, I can't. Holding a baby, especially one that's newly born, only enhances my desire to have a child of my own. Holding a baby reminds me that I can't, and pulls at my heart just a little bit.

And so it was recently. I held the newest baby in our social network. She was small and beautiful and perfect. For at least half an hour, she lay tucked on my chest while the group of assembled friends talked and laughed.

I was a little worried when I got to the hospital, as there was noone at the front desk and I had no idea where to go. While I was following signs, I heard my name, and there was Big Poppa. The in-laws had taken him out to eat; Momma had all but thrown him out so he could get some fresh air and food.

And he told me something that made me smile (and of course also made me ache a little). While they were eating, he felt this pull. This invisible string pulling him back to the hospital. He couldn't wait to get back up there to see his brand new little girl. He couldn't bear to be away from her for very long. There is a light about him now that wasn't there before.

He was wrapped around her wee pinky finger and she was barely a day old.

Another couple was there when I arrived, and left about half an hour later. So it was me and the new family. I (grudingly) gave up the sweet-smelling, popping, squeaking, warm, sleeping bundle when the end of visiting hours approached. Big Poppa set about changing her diaper.

It was an endearing affair. I've changed diapers before (how is it, by the way, that I have all of this mommy experience which I don't really get to use as a mommy???). He hadn't. As the wee one wailed (sounding a bit like what I would imagine a pterodactyl must have sounded like) and flailed, he methodically cleaned her and  put her in a new clean diaper, and then burrito-wrapped her. The crying stopped, the flailing stopped. And he held her in one hand, looking at her with the most pure, true love, while Momma sat on the bed, getting ready to stand up.

So I did what I do best, I slipped quietly back into a corner, and raised a camera. The quiet moment passed, hugs were shared.

I eased out of the room quietly, and made my way to the elevator.

I was holding back tears.

I was delightfully happy for them.

I tried like crazy not to cry on my way home.

Once home, as I was fixing myself something to eat, my husband asked how everything was. I replied. He came into the kitchen.

"Did holding the baby set your clock off?"

"Nope. That happened yesterday."