that same day, we met up with some friends for breakfast (turned into brunch after waiting for a table) at mama's royal cafe and i couldn't stop staring--or maybe i was lusting--after their 14-month old little girl, riley. she's a chunk of spirit--lots of smiles, playful, and snugg-able. oh, i wanted one of her, too. i wanted to take this little girl for walks and stop and smell every flower; let her dress herself and encourage her creativity--applauding when she exits her room in a purple tutu, a graphic tee, striped leggings, and a punchy headband, her toes painted pink from our last girls night.
the next day at church, i held a friend's 4-month old little boy, lucas. he was a hefty bugger but that didn't stop him from snuggling heavily into my shoulder during meetings. he had a good amount of drool and sucked on my hands when he wasn't staring above at the ceiling light fixtures. at one point, he fell asleep on my chest and my heart melted. he was heavenly. i'm surrounded by babies and tiny humans at church. sometimes, when our glances align, we play games, like peek-a-boo, or i'll make silly faces in their direction, watching their mothers hush their miniature giggles.
a few weeks back i went northeast to visit my family in moses lake. i had a new niece to meet--clara kristin [last name]. i held this little one and felt a great sense of peace. it came to mind, while holding the sweet 4-week old, that nothing else mattered. i was doing precisely what i should be doing at this exact moment: holding this precious, pure, and new human. i figured holding a newborn could solve every problem the world has. why? because wee things put a pause on life. they require much attention, and usually it must be undivided attention. they feel good cradled in your arms and all you want to do is protect this tiny being and tell her (or him) about the wonderful life that's ahead. you want to read her (or him) every story and kiss her (or him) nonstop. you want to rest her (or his) head in the crook of your arm, even after it goes stiff and you develop a crick in your back. you don't care. because at this very moment, you are still. you are holding something that is relying on you 100%. and because you don't ever want her (or him) to not snuggle with you.
babies. oh sweet babies. they smell nice. they feel nice. they love you. they look at you inquisitively, straight into your soul. they need you. they depend on you. they'll sit still with you. i want one.
picture my own--me holding my niece, clara
right now, my fears of motherhood and that life change are in the far distance. but i'm not foolish enough to think they're not still there, lurking. it'll take more than holding a few babies to feel ready for motherhood.