A Thanksgiving Carol

While Corrie and I weren’t visited by ghosts of parenthood past present and future, we were treated to something even better. On our trip to NY this weekend we found ourselves confronted with a brand newborn, a 5 month old, and a two-year old on consecutive days. This progression took us way beyond any one-dimensional reaction of fear, expectation, or wonder, and really opened up a world of conflicting emotions. Let me try to put this down as to what this weekend was like:

Our good friends R & M gave birth to Jake around Midnight on Wednesday the 23rd. We were able to visit the hospital that Friday night and we were allowed to hold their two-day-old baby. Now I’ve held babies before. There isn’t much too it, particularly when they’re too small to do anything. Support the head, rock a bit, don’t drop. But there was a brief moment there, when his parents were talking to the grandparents, a wrinkled little foot stuck out of his blanket, when I had a vision of them all getting up, saying goodbye and walking out. And I’d be left with this guy, sleeping now, but it’d be just the two of us. And he’d need to be fed. And burped, and inoculated, and bathed. He’d need clothes, braces, and school supplies. He’s need to deal with bullies, crushes, and sports injuries. And there WOULD BE NOBODY ELSE to give it to him.

He stopped being a cute little swaddled ball of burps and farts then, so I handed him back to his grandmother.

The next night we visited S & A with their five month old son Jack, who is just getting to the fun age where he can smile and react to people. His parents had reached a point where the systems were in place, had suffered endless nights of unstoppable wailing, and were just beaming with pride that they were able to play with him now. Seems like there’s a long stretch where you don’t get much of a return on your investment of sleepless nights, and peed-on ties. The fun during the first few months is mostly theoretical apparently. Oh, he cried a few times before we left, and they were prepared for the 2 am feeding, but at least he’ll chew on your finger and play with his feet now. I could see how every minor thing could command rapt attention.

(I promise not to bore everybody we know with endless tales of our daughter being able to stuff both feet in her mouth, but that doesn’t mean we don’t feel proud when it happens.)

On our way out of town we picked up P to give her a ride back to Boston. She had bummed a ride to our place from her sister and niece Matilda, who was “Two years and Eight Months.” She was answering childish questions, smiled and giggled at our dog, and shook our hands hello (ok, maybe just a finger). We hadn’t known her before that day, but she was still small enough to ride on her mother’s hip, but old enough to talk. She had drawn a Harry Potter lightning bolt on her forehead, was scared of Chris Kringle, and was generally up for playing.

I could go on I suppose, but in short, we had our child, raised her and were three years ahead of the game all in three days. To all the parents out there that advise us to “enjoy your free time while you can”, and for all of us that can’t wait another day for our child to come, let me just say, it was an illuminating weekend.