Over Labor Day weekend, I had the privilege of meeting Ben’s 3-month-old 2nd cousin. We got to his aunt and uncle’s house and, within ten minutes, I had the little one in my arms. Her weight in my arms felt wonderful, as did her soft, downy head against my cheek. I had her sleeping away within 10 minutes and I just loved the feeling of her little form against me. I still want children of my own and am consistently praying for guidance as to timing. I want to give Ben the children he wants. I’m not in the baby rage that many of my friends have been in lately, but it hasn’t been lost on me just how many of those friends are having children of their own.
However, for a few moments, I forgot all of that and just reveled in holding this beautiful little girl, rocking her, singing to her as though she were my own. Somewhere in the back of my head, I marveled at how natural it felt and I could feel the old insecurities nurtured — unwittingly, I know — by my family warring with the desire to just stay in that moment with this miraculous little bundle of life. It was a beautiful few moments.