Soapbox

So I’ve got this kid… and before she was born, I was secretly worried, was I doing the right thing even having her? It sounds silly I guess, but back then, when I was full of hormones, I wondered. Well she has this brother who is so weird and amazing and I thought, will the next one be boring compared to this guy? Will it be old hat the second time around? Will I be able to love this one as much, or will I resent her for taking me away from Stephen?

Now I’ve had 8 months with this little girl and I still find myself standing by her crib, watching her sleep with a goofy grin on my face. The whole amazing spectacle is unfolding before me and I am as spellbound by the second act as I was by the first. I have probably hours worth of video tape of her smiling and blowing bubbles and making odd little dolphin noises, and learning how to swallow baby food. I’m sure no one will ever watch these except me, 40 years from now, in the nursing home, telling all the nurses, "There’s my baby girl. Isn’t she precious?" Just watching her try to crawl in a sort of catterpillar motion or stuff Cheerios in her mouth is enough to bring tears to my eyes. How could I not have realized that love will just stretch to fit whatever size package is inside?

At least once a week I pray that when she is 14, she won’t hate me as much as I hated my poor mother when I was that age. My sainted mother informs me that she will but fortunately, it’s not a permanent condition.