A friend of mine gave birth to her second baby boy six weeks ago. Her first son is three days younger than Hooper. We met up at the beach the other day and while the boys fed each other blueberries and goldfish, us mom’s discussed the return to the newborn stage. It’s hard for me to imagine enjoying the newborn stage all over again. I watch Hooper now and he’s so entertaining and lively and enjoyable. When I think of newborns, I think of a parasite attached to my tit, long sleepless nights, and constant kink working outing. Do I sound cynical? I sense that I do. Anyway, in talking with Lisa, I realized that there is magic that accompanies giving birth. You see, when you birth a baby you are not merely bringing a human being into the world. You are also birthing a maternal bond, a maternal instinct. It dawned on me that I cannot feel it now because it has not yet taken place. I trust greatly that with Van’s arrival will also come a re-found love for all things fully dependent and cuddly and vulnerable. That’s what I saw in Lisa, anyhow, and it’s a beautiful thing.

So while the boys played peek-a-boo around the trash can and chased birds and exchanged hugs, I thought about what’s just around the corner. And an inner excitement started to reside where there was previously only fear.