I Didn't Know

Y’all, I had no idea. I had no idea what it’s like.

I mean, maybe you do. Maybe you know what it’s like to have a baby fall asleep in your arms, confident in the reliability of your support, snuggled into the skin of your chest like it’s the only pillow to ever exist. Maybe you’ve lived into the sweet peace of that moment when the bouncing and the comforting and the rocking can cease and a tiny person grants you the grace of trust and quiet. But if you haven’t, goodness, what a difference holding a baby makes.

I hadn’t seen what it’s like to watch a baby watch the world. I mean, maybe you have, maybe you’ve seen those gigantic eyes as they follow birds and squirrels and dogs from down the street out in nature, how they squint against the still-too-bright sunlight when they try to see the sky, the newness of the outside world still surprising the sensitivity of their tiny, growing body. It’s an inspiration to watch a baby watch snow, endlessly fascinated by the swirling flakes even though years from now he won’t remember whose arms held him while he learned how the whiteness falling from above blankets the ground in rest. I’ve watched more people than I can count see the Earth from space or the shape of a galaxy for the first time and I guard those moments jealously, like a wedding attendee sneaking a peek at the groom just as the bride begins to walk down the aisle, but man, what a difference the newness of a baby makes.

I just had no clue how many songs I would sing to this child in the past week. Maybe you’re familiar with the quiet hum that sometimes settles a tiny one when they’re fussy, but I have pulled out all the stops for this kid, even with my throat scratchy from leading chants as we marched down Constitution Avenue. I sang Dear Theodosia and Summertime and Go to Sleep and Do You Hear the People Sing and A Father’s First Spring and I know-oh-oh a Change is Gonna Come. I hummed Star Wars and Indiana Jones and Harry Potter and ET and the waltz from Sleeping Beauty. I got in a few snatches of Jupiter and bits of melody that I couldn’t place or name. I never imagined the natural comfort and ease with which I would give my voice to another. Then again, it is astounding the difference a baby makes.

And I just don’t know. I don’t understand the self-sacrificial love of a parent. I don’t grasp the incredible hope that bringing a child into this world entails. I don’t feel in my gut the worry for the future that this infant must engender in his mother and father, no matter how many times I hear about it in songs and movies. I’ve never had to adjust my sleeping schedule, my eating schedule, my free time around someone else, much less around a little bundle of helplessness that can’t express to me in words what he wants. I’m just a nanny so I change his diapers and rinse formula out of my sweater and stretch before I walk in the house in case the baby can only conceive of quiet if he’s being held and count each precious second of this little life in formation that I get to be a part of. I am floored at the difference eight hours a day with a baby makes.

Every human life starts off as this tiny little miracle, this little being that hasn’t heard the lie of self-sufficiency or mastered the delusion of control and possession. They give their faith so freely. How do I get back to this? How do I rest with such confidence? How do I look around with such joy? How do I listen with patience to the songs around me?

Maybe I start with naming the grace upon grace that’s been given to me this week through this child, through my classes and professors, through my friends, through strangers. I can be reminded and renewed. Strength has given, even when all I had were sighs that begged for it. And maybe the next thing I do is to pour back out all that kindness and goodness and mercy and strength given to me. Maybe the trust, the rest, the joy, the patience comes in both the receiving and the giving.

Because, man. I wasn't ready for the way a baby's smile can knock you out. One of the finest gifts a tiny one can give and they give it away for a song.