I really like to believe that sometimes the universe, or Fate, or whatever, finds a way to give us the nudge we need at the moment we most need it.
Take for example this odd but meaningful occurrence that happened only a few weeks ago…
Recently, Joe and I joined his parents, sister and her husband, and their two small kids for a week of fun in the sun in beautiful Myrtle Beach. I was glad to have time to catch up with my in-laws, and it was especially nice to have the chance to bond with my nephews, one of which I was meeting for the first time.
I don’t have much opportunity to be around kids all that often, and I was determined to get these guys to like me if it killed me. Not just because I want to be the “cool aunt”, but because I needed the practice.
Now that I’ve seen the visual evidence on a monitor and felt the movements inside me, this whole baby thing is becoming more and more a reality, which is great…and terrifying. It means that there is a countdown that I am acutely aware of, where my time as a selfish-minded solo person is coming to an end. After that, the focus turns laser-pointed at this new being that is relying on me for everything.
Everything.
I will be its’ source of comfort, reassurance, stability, confidence, and love. The choices I make will shape and mold this baby into the person it will become.
How can I be sure of the right thing to do every day, all the time? What if my decision to buy Apple Jacks cereal leads my kid to be a sugar-addled monster, who flunks out of school, becomes a ward of the state, and ends up taking a dead-end job at a box factory? And then one day, after overhearing the tape dispenser collude with the pencil sharpener about global tyranny and domination, he snaps and goes on a rampage? All because his mother chose Apple Jacks over sensible Cheerios, sighs the therapist assigned to his case.
Ok, granted this is a worst-case scenario, and probably pretty unlikely. Still, my mind was busy with these kinds of worries even as Joe and I took a nice leisurely beach walk. We were talking and watching little kids running around the beach, playing in the water, building sandcastles, screeching and screaming with excitement and terror. I began to wonder how ready we really were for all this. Did we have the patience? Would we be any fun? Would I ever be a “good mom”?
I was taking everything in when I noticed a little voice coming from behind me. I assumed it was just another little kid playing nearby, but it sounded like it was getting closer. And closer. I expected to see the child run past me, but all of a sudden, I felt little cold damp arms wrap around my waist. I looked down and saw a little blond girl of about 2 or 3 clutching my belly and legs. She didn’t appear distressed or afraid. She was just standing there, hugging me so contently that we stopped dead in our tracks. I didn’t know what to do, so I just soothed her back while we looked around for her parents.
“Sorry about that,” a young woman said strolling up to us, smiling. “She just wanted to say ‘hi’”.
“Oh, she’s very sweet,” I said looking down again at the little girl. She met my eyes for a second and when I saw her big green eyes smiling back up at me, my heart melted. “What’s her name?” I asked the mother.
“Jersey,” she replied.
It was the second mild shock of the day. What are the odds that the little girl who would come running up to me and clutch my waist would have the same name as my home state, especially when it’s not Virginia or Georgia (or some other semi-typical name)?
I mentioned that to the mother, who laughed at the coincidence. “Do you have any kids?” she asked.
I said no, but that we were currently waiting for our first. She wished us luck and began to lead the little girl away. As I watched her unhook from my waist and excitedly join her siblings in the water, I was suddenly a little wistful to see her go.
I don’t know why she chose me to cling to. Maybe she liked the color of my hot pink bathing suit. Maybe she thought I looked like a family member she knew.
I’ll never know why. And it really doesn’t matter. Because for that instant, in that small innocent gesture, I think we both found the reassurance we were looking for.
