A Tender Moment…

One of my daughter’s favorite stories for me to tell her while snuggling at bedtime is the story of the day I met her—the day she was born. She begged me to relay it again last night, and I obligingly began the tale.

I told her about how excited I was to hold her for the first time, but that Mommy had unexpected complications, which necessitated  a very concerned room full of nurses to confiscate my new little bundle all too quickly, turning her over to Daddy for her first bath on the other side of the room. I described how the suddenly sober doctor worked deftly to try to save Mommy’s life, while Daddy and Nonnie stood by, trying not to let their faces betray what they knew and I didn’t— that the hemorrhaging was not stopping. They knew the clock was ticking.

And I told her how Mommy, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation, had only one focus:

“My baby is crying—why won’t they let me HOLD her?”

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So I did the only thing I could do. I started to sing the lullaby I had written for her, the one she had heard a thousand times in the warm, dark months that she was tucked away inside of me. And as soon as the familiar notes reached her at the other side of the hospital room, with Mommy straining her neck around to try to catch a glimpse of her, my baby girl did a beautiful thing.

She stopped crying. Suddenly. Completely.

Turning her head toward the sound, her bright, dark eyes already shining, she seemed to be searching for the source. And we stayed that way—me singing, her listening, both of us oblivious to the heroic endeavors of the medical staff—until the danger had passed and Daddy was able to deposit my newly bathed, perfect, precious little girl back into my arms where she belonged.

With a tear in the corner of my eye, I looked down at my now 9-year-old little pile of perfection, who heaved a contented sigh, looked up, and thoughtfully said:

“Mom, aren’t you glad we’re not animals, who LICK their babies clean? You know, like elephants.”

So much for sentiment…