Be My Baby
Here I am with Jax as he was gearing up for his afternoon nap. Photo by Jax’s mommy.
A visit today from four-month-old Jax, the beautiful doe-eyed son of my sister’s college roommate Stephanie, who has very kindly adopted me since she and her husband moved to DC a couple of years ago. Oh, the sweet baby smell of him, the smiles, the way he kicks and kicks his legs delightedly for the sheer joy of having discovered he has legs. He fell asleep on me, and it was lovely to sit there with his comforting weight across my chest, his soft curls tickling my cheek as he dozed.
Tomorrow I’m subbing in for our church’s girls mentoring leader. I held that position until I “retired” from it last year, and I’m excited to hang out with them tomorrow. I’ve now been at my church for nearly seven years and have watched most of the girls blossom from shy, giggly six-year-olds to un-shy giggly teens. Last year most of them went through out Coming of Age program, which ends with a ball and I couldn’t quite believe that the begowned glittery young ladies dancing with their dads were the same little kids who ran around with their too-big pants falling off, with their hair in ponytails and barrettes, with their chipmunk cheeks that hadn’t yet lost their babyfat.
It’s unknown if I’ll ever have kids of my own, and perhaps, some would say, that at this age, with the looming possibility of a hysterectomy, I may never get to experience pregnancy. But even if I don’t ever birth a child, how blessed I am that I have been given the great gift of loving a child and being loved by one, even if they were not my own. And how blessed I am also, to realize that even if the thing you’re hoping for does not come to you exactly as you’d hoped or planned, it doesn’t mean you don’t have it at all. Sometimes, it’s just a question of adjusting your perspective.