The Long Journey and Baby Lovin'

Who knows where the road will lead?

I had my heart set on seeing the Mighty Quinn as soon as possible. It was wretched to me to have to wait until he was the advanced age of four days old before I could hug my dear friend, then oh-so-gently get my hands on her incredibly handsome son.

The journey started off the way most trips with children in tow start off: not the way one wants/hopes. Normally, mine manage to be up with--if not before--dawn. Even a late bedtime the night before cannot persuade my kiddos to doze any longer into the next morning. But if there is an early morning appointment or agenda for the next day, the dreamland fairies spread an extra helping of snoozability onto the little ones. Yes, I wanted to get on the road early. It's a four hour drive. One way. And winter decided to come back with an arctic blast. But you see, I really wanted to be there. I'm not complaining. An hour later departure is better than not making it out the door at all (you never know when a child is going to come down with a fever or some sort of wicked tummy virus).

The drive was filled with winter in all its glory. As the children watched for animals along the way, and challenged each other to an animal sound making contest*, I drank in the landscape. It was beautiful beyond a thousand words. The fields were still--silent--in their frosty white, and drifts of snow had gathered up against the rolling hills. The barns, mostly red, but there were a few in a dark green, and one turquoise (the wife on that farm must be awesome), stood proudly against the dazzlingly bright sky. As we made our way higher and higher, the views became more breathtaking. You could look out and see hundreds and hundreds of acres of land dressed in winter's best. A littler bit farther, a weeping willow tree glistened as if it had been draped in tinsel. I considered stopping to take a picture, but there was a baby waiting for me to hold him.

I arrived with my crew and was greeted by my friend's parents and mother-in-law. The baby was having his bilirubin checked back at the hospital, so I had to wait. It was not long. After a false jump of excitement (baby's dad coming home from work), I was finally able to hug my friend as soon as she came through the door.

And if anyone deserved a hug, it was her. She is a great-beyond-great woman. We've been friends for almost eighteen years. She's been there for me through the ups and downs even though we've been geographically separated for the past twelve years. I know I would have been in a broken heap on the floor if I had to endure what she had to endure to keep her little guy safe for the past nine months. But there she stood, smiling, as I hugged her gently and practically pounced on her father-in-law to get my face close to the baby.

Everyone let me hog the baby for hours. Maybe it was because they knew I'd be gone in just a few more hours, and they are such patient people. Maybe it's because they love me since I love my friend so much. Maybe it was a little bit of both. But I got to hold him, tickle him awake so his mom could feed him, and then hold him again as soon as he was done.

It was the best medicine on earth. To see my friend. To hold New Life. Five years to the day--nearly to the hour--that I had to let go of Grace, after holding her just once... that I had to begin to learn to live life with a permanent gash in my heart. Five long years ago, but it doesn't seem that long. Just like so many other things in life I guess.

So, this post is for the Sister who isn't kin, but kindred in spirit. For the woman who let me snuggle her baby on such a sad, special day in my life: Thank You. Thank you for Everything.




* The annoying game goes like this:

"Snort, squeal, oink, oink."

"A pig!"

"No."

"A baby pig!"

"Nope."

"A girl pig?"

"No, keep guessing."

"A girl making a pig sound?"

"No."

"A boy making a pig sound?"

"No."

"A baby girl making a pig sound!"

"YES!"

Thank goodness I didn't have to play.