Progress

My cousin and his wife just had a baby girl. They also have two boys who are preschool age, just a bit older than Lucian. My parents, Lucian and I went to see them this weekend.

The baby was a good two pounds less than Lucian was at birth. (not that she was that tiny, he was just a bigger baby) I haven't held a baby that small in a long time.

My Mom handed her to me and I gently rocked her. I made eye contact with her, smelled her, felt the weight in my arms, all the things that you do when you hold a newborn. Lucian came running into the room and saw me with the baby. I looked at him and realized that although I'd love to have another, I'm truly content having just one. Lucian wasn't jealous, he ran out of the room just as quickly as he had run in. Apparently the baby wasn't exciting enough to hold his attention.

I held her for a long time. My Mom, my cousin's wife and I talked, we laughed, we marveled at how small her fingers are. It was wonderful. I felt so good. I didn't feel jealous, anxious, inept, or unworthy.

I'm not sure what's changed since I wrote this just ten days ago. Maybe just writing it has allowed me to feel the emotions and to give them a name. For a long time, I kept my feelings of inadequacy and longing to myself. Whatever the reason, I'm glad.

Maybe I won't turn into a bitter spinster with fifty cats after all.