I recently googled “quotes about babies,” and the results were dismal—mostly about wailing and sticky fingers, and not at all about those beguiling toothless grins or the sheer blessed weight of a newborn.
I suspect that babies are too glorious (and yes, sometimes too waily) to put a pen to. There’s also the trouble of a thousand stages of development. We say “baby” as we say “Africa,” as though a newborn was at all like a four-month old, or Nigeria like Namibia. Poets or composers might approach a proper description of babies, but I’ve not yet read it’s sweet strains.
So where the pen fails, we take pictures. LOTS of them. Our “Lucy” file includes 247 photos to date, and the blessed child hasn’t even been alive 247 days! Perhaps to you she is too slobbery, her eyes too big, or her cheeks to chubby. But we know with perfect certainty that she is flawless.
For six months I have reigned myself in, resisting the daily urge to post pictures on Facebook. Instead, I have dozens of hearty, poorly worded journal entries celebrating Lucy’s life. Today I spare myself the trouble, and simply share a picture, months old but beloved nonetheless.
Happy life, baby girl.
