It’s raining babies! After flipping through 90 (yes, 90) pictures of my brother’s new baby girl this past week, Gary and I went to visit friends in the hospital and said hola to their one-day old baby girl. I couldn’t figure out what was more amazing: the tiny new person wrapped tightly in a blanket, watching us through half-closed, peaceful eyes, or the new parents who couldn’t stop looking at her and smiling with unabashed infatuation.
When Gary held the baby, she cuddled into his chest and wound her little hands tight around his thumb, content and complacent, latched on like she’d never let go. When it was finally my turn to hold her, I reached up for her eagerly but nervously…and she cried, fussed, thrashed her arms, and practically filed a police report until I unhanded her and backed away with my hands where she could see them.
Gary leaned into me and said softly, “Don’t be so worried. She’s not as breakable as you are afraid she is.”
Yeah, well, she is tiny and new and sure looked plenty breakable to me.
I wanted to pout and stubbornly ignore her charms after that, but I just couldn’t resist leaning over her to whisper to her, watch her, laugh at the way she wiggled her hands next to her cheeks like she was mocking us (or at least me; she was probably taunting “Try to hold me again, baby-repellent lady! I’ll spit up on you!”)
I refrained from a second attempt at holding her, afraid she would shriek for a SWAT team and K-9 dogs, but before we left, I leaned over her one last time to say good-bye, and she closed her amazingly tiny hand tightly around my fingers. Perhaps it was merely reflex, or maybe a slick self-defense restraint move. Whichever, I’ll take it.