I have been writing about my stepchildren ever since they were small enough to fit in my lap, and I could easily pick them up. I remember lifting them up so they could reach the sink to wash their hands, helping them sound out words as they read out loud, and watching their dad tuck them in at night, barely able to hold their eyelids open as they insisted they were not sleepy at all.
Well, they’re not so little anymore. All four kids are now adults, all in their 20s, except the youngest, who is 19 and getting ready to soon leave the teenage years behind her.
Two and a half years ago, I held the newborn son of my younger stepson, and part of me is still in disbelief that he is a dad now. Last night, my husband and I introduced ourselves to the newest member of the family, just born yesterday afternoon, the son of my older stepson and his wife.
I was being silly, whispering baby talk nonsense, gently rocking back and forth, when the baby’s sleepy eyes peeked open, regarded me curiously for a moment, and then he smiled. My heart nearly burst. Is there any greater honor to receive than a baby smile?
Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more emotional, a few moments later, after trading places with my husband, I watched him envelop that tiny baby with protective hands, talking gently to him, with a teeny baby hand resting on his chest. It was beautiful to see, hard to describe, but a moment when all I could feel was love.
Babies are innocent and pure. Everything is brand new and enchanting. They embody infinite possibilities and potential, magic and wonder. They enrapture us, their every move and gaze and gesture delightful.
Welcome to the world, little guy. I hope you love it as much as we all already love you.
Sweat & Sparkle 