Happy Birth Day

I love writing columns for anywhere that will let me toss in my two cents. But with a stream of regular deadlines, I don’t necessarily always have a topic itching to commit itself to the page at the very moment I sit down at the computer.

Today, however, is different. Today, something happened that happens everyday but is nonetheless every bit as extraordinary as if it was a rare and unusual occurrence. Today, my best friend had a baby.

He arrived two weeks early weighing in at seven pounds 12 ounces. Sporting a full head of sandy blond hair, he looks almost exactly like his big sister did when she was born. His eyebrows are so blond, they hardly exist and fine translucent lashes edge his closed upper lids.

Babies aren’t new to me. I have three nephews, one niece, a niece or nephew on the way and am pretty well acquainted with the eight kids born to my close friends collectively. Yet when a new little person comes along, it is almost unbelievable something so incredible could have happened. One minute my friend is pregnant; the next minute a tiny life is experiencing his first moments in the world.

I visited my friend in the hospital after her son was born. Albeit a little tired (and actually her husband looked a bit more worn out than she did), with her rosy cheeks and bubbly account of being in labor, it was hard to believe she had delivered a baby just hours before.

My friend’s husband handed the baby to me. Even with closed eyelids, his tiny brow softly flinched at the flash of his dad’s camera. With his warm head heating the crook of my arm, he slept soundly oblivious to all the fuss surrounding the introductions. It had been a big day, and he dozed through my visit scrunching his face up every so often as I adjusted the position of my arms.

Looking at this little baby boy, my friend and I talked about what her son would look like a year from now and 10 years from now or even just next week. “They change so fast,” she said. So new and untouched by the world around him, the possibilities are endless for him. But it is still somehow hard to believe this little guy will eventually grow into a unique person of his own.

Looking down at him, I thought about the moments and years between when his mother and I became friends back in the sixth grade and now. Twenty years of successes, mistakes, experiences and hopes and fears. And then I think about her son’s next 20 years and our next 20 years, and I can hardly wait to see what happens.