I wasn't prepared

I wasn't prepared for motherhood. She arrived a week early. The suitcase was half-packed. I didn't even buy a chicken for the chicken soup I was going to make* to spoon into Amy's mouth when labor got hard**. The first signs of labor came in the middle of the night, after I'd had only 2 hours of sleep.

But more than that, I wasn't prepared for how beautiful she would be, or how much I would love her. The sheer delight at watching her little arms flail, her little mouth suck, her little eyes look around, and turn towards me when I speak to her. She recognized my voice immediately! When she cries, I can lie her on my chest and hold her tight and she falls asleep. When she fusses, I play the piano for her, and she looks around, bright-eyed and calm. She is the most beautiful baby in the world.

Now I get it, this motherhood thing.

*My friend Joyce pointed out that making soup was probably not the best idea, anyway, since if I had made it I would have had to nag Amy to hurry up and go into labor before the soup spoiled.

**Plus, she wouldn't have eaten it. She didn't want anything to eat. Giving birth, as it turns out, is a lot of work, and you don't just lie in bed and get fed chicken soup. Mostly, you groan.

Photo: Little Mookie, about 2 minutes old. Those are my hands, on the left, cutting the umbilical cord.