This morning, I got an email from a friend who just had his first baby. He said that they were smitten with her. That little phrase made my morning. Plus I love the use of the word “smitten”. I’m very excited to meet their new daughter and greet them as parents. But the thing is, I never understood the newborn love thing. My first screamed and screamed. And then nursed and nursed. I often thought: How did people love this phase? My second came out a thousand times better and I started to fall in love with the newborn phase, but I was never deeply and madly passionate about the newborn phase. But with my boys years away from the newborn stage, I’m madly and deeply in love with this phase. The sweet smell of newness. The wrinkles that are just waiting to be filled up with precious baby. The long and silent stretches right before a feeding. And the curled up naps on the chest… Oh my ovaries might just hurt.
But what I love even more are parents of their first newborn. There’s a buzz around them that’s palpable. They’ve been bitten by true love. The air is thick with possibility and the future is crammed full of dreams for their new son or daughter. If they were forced to eat sweet potatoes as a child, they vow to never force their baby to eat sweet potatoes. Plans are made for first bike rides and future holidays traditions. It’s an intoxicating atmosphere that I desperately wish I could bottle. On days when my four-year old has had his second tantrum, I want to run to my room and find that bottle. I’d crack it open and breathe in all that newborn glory. It’d help remind me that this is a minor bump towards all the possibility we dreamt seconds after his birth. The world is still his. And I’m here to make sure he gets the best chance at it. Because that’s my job. Until we figure out the bottling dilemma, my pictures will be the reminder of those promises and dreams.
Last week, I had the pleasure of spending time with these new parents. Congrats! The world is his for the taking.