My Cup Runneth Over

by Jennifer on November 27, 2014

I noticed it had gotten quiet; she was no longer crying.

I looked down to see her staring up at me, straight into my eyes, her head a mere eight inches or so from mine. It was that intensely personal stare unique to young babies that eventually fades away as they learn that prolonged, direct eye contact is uncomfortable to most people of a certain age.

I wondered what she was thinking, what she made of everything she saw with fresh eyes and lacking the frames through which we all eventually interpret our surroundings.

We looked at each other until I tried to break the intensity of the moment by blinking quickly and cracking a smile at her, but she did not take the bait and held steady.

In this moment, I am reminded that she is more than the crying, the nursing, the diaper changes and irregular sleep patterns. This is a person, my daughter, my sweet baby girl.

She did not care about anything else that was going on, my “famous” chocolate pies that sat in lumpy ruins in the fridge for Thanksgiving or the toys strewn about on my floor that I kept tripping over or the extra thirty pounds of baby weight I still carried. She just wanted to connect with me, her Mama, in this moment.

This was my daughter, my sweet baby girl.

How lucky I am…

My eyes filled as I realized how completely undeserving I am of that love. How can any of us ever be worthy of something so pure? I quickly blinked away the tears, not wanting her to see her to see her Mama looking at her and crying and take them for something other than the overwhelming sense of fullness they represented.

I stroked her head, front to back, in the way that relaxes her, feeling the soft threads of sparse baby hair. He eyes grew heavy, the lids drooping but they never left mine.

As her eyes closed, mine filled up again and this time I didn’t bother to hide the tears as she was asleep and there was no chance she would misinterpret them as sadness rather than what they were, evidence that my undeserving heart was so warm and full that the excess had to overflow and spill out somewhere.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Cindy November 27, 2014 at 3:32 pm

Oh my! I DO miss those days. Beautifully written.

Comments on this entry are closed.

Previous post:

Next post: