Still Just As Sweet

I am fortunate to have been able to conceive and bear two beautiful and healthy children. I suppose as a young girl, you think about your future husband and children - planning your wedding and home in your head for years before you ever even meet the man you marry. During all this childish dreaming and planning (most of which is pure nonsense anyway) it is just taken for granted that you will have babies - that everything will function as it is supposed to and no wrenches will be thrown into the works and it will all be easy as pie.

I have several friends who are unable to have children. When we all found this out in our early to mid-twenties, many evenings were filled with us girls all sitting around discussing at length the situation. Such discussions usually involved alcohol, tears, more alcohol, more tears and some laughter. I felt so terribly sorry for my friends that they could NEVER have babies - I mean, how could God be so cruel? These were the most loving and nurturing girls I knew. They would be the best moms in the world. They were the ones who held our girlie group together, remembered birthdays, planned parties and were always thinking of how to make everyone feel better. Damn - they were so nice, sometimes we tried to pull them over to the dark side. A snide remark would be made and you would see a faint glimmer of a smile before the "That's not nice" was said. We evil ones would just shake our heads in disgust and say "Crap, I thought we had her in our clutches."

None of that last "dark side" part is true, really, but they were and still are lovely women with huge hearts. And so it always struck me as ridiculously unfair - these girls, who were the first to cuddle all the new babies and soothe the new moms of the group's nerves, would never hold one of their very own. They were naturals - the kind you see and wish you could be. Poised and calm, even as Little Susie barfed all down the front of their brand spankin' new Ann Taylor sweater, they smiled and laughed and said " I bet you feel better now, don't you, sweetheart?" They would mention adoption and I always though to myself "Yeah, but it won't really be your baby...." And I would wonder how you could bond with a baby that you didn't have a part in making. I mean, babies are cute and you might love one, but for 18 years? When it's not even yours? I couldn't fathom it.

As time wore on I softened on that stance some. I still couldn't understand how you could truly bond with one, especially after having my first. The whole pregnancy is a bonding experience and the first time you feel that little booger kick? Wow, it's a combination of awe, fear and inexplicable love. Amazing. I could see maybe how you would grow to love them and become protective of them - I mean, if this is your only shot at it, sure. I guess.

And then it happened, our dear friend Melissa and her equally dear husband Ben found out they were getting a baby girl. They hadn't really told us they were trying to adopt because apparently it is a lengthy process with no absolutes. And as I said, she is ridiculously sweet and didn't want to get everyone else's hopes up. We had a big party for them and a new baby shower. It was so much fun - although all of us who had given birth were a little pissed. There, opening presents, sat Melissa in her size 4 jeans - looking agonizingly perfect - where we had all sat months before in our lovely size efuckingnormous maternity clothes.

We had a wonderful time and she racked up some really great shit. C'mon, you know that's what it's all about - quit being so pious. Anyway - I was still skeptical about the whole bonding/not really yours issue. Hoping for the best but just not knowing. Until the day Audra came home from the hospital.

The way Melissa cradled that precious baby with the tears streaming down her face and her smile lighting up the room made us all cry. Up from the depths of the baby blanket came a tiny hand reaching out for Melissa's face. Fingers spread wide like she wanted to hold all of Melissa's beautiful face in her one hand. She kissed that tiny hand and the look in her eyes told me that I had been wrong all along. So very wrong, and so glad that I had been.

I saw in that one simple moment between a mother and her child that that baby was hers and Ben's and no one else's. They loved this gift with the same depth that I loved mine. It made no difference in how the babies got into our arms, just that they made it there safely. This little baby and it's smell were still just as sweet. Just as perfect. Just as you had always dreamed.

And we all drank a toast to the beautiful Audra - who had come to prove me wrong and to complete a family.