Yesterday as I was attempting to get my lesson ready for the Young Women's class I teach, Adele was fussing. I tried handing her off to a few of the girls (Brooke and Breezy) but as I came into view, it was pretty clear she wasn't going to settle for less than me. She was tired and grumpy and wanted her mama, so I plopped her on my hip and kept going. She immediately stopped fussing, cocked her head shyly to the side (her latest trick) and looked over at the girls that had been trying to calm her down with a "See, aren't I cute" expression on her face. It made us all laugh and as I expressed my exasperation at her antics one of the leaders (Michele Paul) made the comment, "Of course she's happy now, Mom. You represent all things good in life to her!"
That phrase keeps coming back to me over the past day each time I go to pick her up, or change her wet diaper, or snuggle her for a midnight feeding. All things good. I DO represent all things good to that little baby. And that's an awesome and staggering feeling to know that she depends on me for everything. EVERYTHING. When I look at her cute little roly poly body or see her sweet little smile, I love the fact that everything she is physically comes from me and only me. (Ok, so technically John helped a little but we're ignoring that fact right now.) My body was able to create, grow, birth (well, sort of), nourish and make this little being survive. And not just survive but thrive with her own huge personality bursting out of her little body and eyes that irresistibly draw anyone within sight to try to get her attention.
And not just my body but the entire way that we interact is perfect: babies may not talk but I know exactly, and I mean EXACTLY, what she wants or needs 99% of the time. When we're in sync, it's like watching a mesmerizing dance between the two of us as she is able to completely control me with her little coos, grunts and hollers and, in turn, I am rewarded with such intense rushes of pleasure just looking at her cuteness that sometimes it almost hurts. It makes me want to just eat her up and I do, many times a day. And those rare times when I'm unable to make things right, like the other day after she had her shots and as I picked her up she cried out in pain, its like a knife to my heart. I cannot imagine the pain some mothers have to deal with when they have a sick or hurt baby and they are unable to fix it. Just listening to her cry (not tears of frustration or anger, cause those I can deal with) does something to me deep inside and it's almost as if I'm physically in pain too. Whoever talked about having kids is like having your heart walk around outside your body hit the nail on the head.
So the next time that I try to eat dinner and feel a set of eyes on me no matter where I move, or no matter how many others are in the room vying for her attention, I won't get frustrated or annoyed. I'll just take the adoring stares, smile a big smile, watch her perch there on my hip like she owns it and remember that to her, I am all things good. It's rare that I can be all things good for someone and for now I'll just bask in the feeling that I can do no wrong in the eyes of my baby.