And while I was happy for her and her family, I found myself struggling yet again with the same complex layers of emotions that I'd been feeling for years upon discovering that a friend was pregnant. It was an emotional lasagna, filled with equal amounts of joy and longing slathered in between chewy bits of frustration and jealousy, topped off with a hearty sprinkling of guilt for being ungrateful for the bounty I already enjoyed. Maybe it was my lot to nurture and enjoy other people's kids. Maybe I wasn't being punished by the universe for some unknown transgression. Maybe it was random. Maybe this was just the way things would be. Maybe I shouldn't want. I should just accept.
|Mm. Psychological stress be damned. I still love you lasagna. Not my photo.|
This was my struggle a year ago.
Fast forward three hundred and sixty something days. I have an entirely different set of layers to sort through.
Right now, my ten week-old son lies snoring on my chest. There are billions of babies on Earth at this very moment, and maybe thousands are also snoring on their mother's chest. Billions upon billions of people have been born, lived, and died since we began to stand upright on the African savannah. In the grand scheme of things, neither my kid or me are special in any way. We are only blips on life's radar screen.
I know that in my head.
But my thoughts tell a very different story. When he smiles, the universe screeches to a halt - crickets stop chirping, people freeze their conversations midsentence, and electrons stop spinning around their nuclei. When I watch him study his father's face, everything else ceases to exist except for the three of us. When his lip quivers because he's about to cry, civilizations could crumble around us and I wouldn't give them a second glance.
|What? Bin Laden was killed? I wasn't aware....|
Last year, just the thought of you was important to me, baby boy. But I had no idea how much. When looking at him, I often think about my life a year ago. So many things have changed during the course of a year, so many impossible things.
It still amazes me.
|Hold on tight, spider monkey.|