30 Years Later

When my mother finally brought my baby brother home from the hospital, the four of us swarmed upon her trying to get close to the little thing. We all took turns sitting in the rocking chair holding the baby, and probably poking him in the face.

Finally, someone declared that it was time to move on - have a snack, go and play, there was something Emily needed (she was only 3), I can't remember. All I know is that I put up a fuss because al the other kids got to hold the baby TWO times, and I had only gotten to hold the baby ONE time. I wanted my second turn.

Someone, either my mother or the babysitter, placed the baby in my arms as I sat in the rocking chair - I wasn't 9 yet - and said I would have to hold him until someone else came back for him, then.

Of course I said I was fine.

And I sat in that chair and rocked that sleeping baby. It was so awesome. I think I might have fallen in love with the idea of babies right at that moment.

I don't know how long I sat there. I couldn't have walked him to the crib if I'd wanted to. I was trapped with the baby on my lap. But I wasn't in any hurry. I was content. When my mother came in to check on the sleeping baby she was shocked to see me still rocking him. She'd forgotten that I was in there at all, and I was not-so-secretly pleased knowing that he'd fallen asleep in my arms and I got an extra long time to hold him.

It's 30 years later. Happy Birthday, Jamie. You're the best.