Prunes and Green Beans

I used to take care of babies for a living. Back in Oregon, one of the few jobs that fit my Human Development/Family Studies degree was to work in daycare. It wasn't the first time I'd worked with kids professionally, in fact I had many years of daycare under my belt before I took the job in the infant room at the Goddard School. There had even been a time in Utah (where I went to college) when I worked in a small room taking care of up to four babies at once. It's always better to work with a buddy, and I was grateful for the company in this new job.
My co-worker was a former traditional stay at home mother and the best baby caretaker I have ever seen. She was gentle yet strong, never lost her temper, and appeared to be a human encyclopedia about all things infant. She was the perfect person to learn about babies from, as well as a very calming presence. This was important because I had just moved back from Italy a few months prior, and my world was in a tailspin. I was also in the process of trying to climb out of a significant depression, something I'd likened to a dark hole many times in my journaling. Her gentle spirit coupled with the healing presence of babies-- have you ever heard of the term baby therapy? It's a real thing-- was, looking back, exactly what I needed. Especially after a difficult break up that came a few months after beginning the job.
A couple days after the break up, I remember standing over my favorite baby Jackson's (yes, I had favorites) crib as he dozed off to sleep. I struggled to hold back the sobs as they rose up in my chest and tightened my throat. Perspective is everything, and looking back on this moment I want to give myself a hug and say, you will be glad this happened because something wonderful, something so much more fitting, is coming. Very soon.
Jackson was a delightfully joyful, blonde and blue eyed little boy. I bonded to him more than any of the other babies for some reason, and I adored taking care of him. I loved feeding him his prunes and green beans. I loved picking him up when he cried and comforting him. I especially loved giving him his bottle. There's something amazing about nourishing a person you care about. This was my first experience of baby love.
I often wondered, as I spooned the puree into his tiny mouth, if this is how it would be when (if? I didn't know if God would give me the opportunity to have my own) I had my own baby. Yawning and tired, wishing for more coffee, yet pulling out the strength to make sure he and the seven others had all they needed for eight hours straight. Some days I just plain didn't want to be there. But every day, God warmed me with His love through Jackson's smile. I learned pretty quick He loves to use babies this way. This the only thing that got me through some of those exhausted or sad days.

Today as I fed my own little peanut her oatmeal and prunes, the feel of the morning and my tiredness pulled me all the way back to those cool damp days in Oregon. Feeding someone else's baby and yet loving him all the same. But now I look at Mini and cannot believe how much more I love her than I thought I ever would, and so much more than any of those other babies. Every bite I feed her gives me the infinite satisfaction that she is getting nourished. God is giving her strength through the mush and I am the person delivering it to her. As much of a privilege it was to take care of Jackson and the other babies more than ten years ago, my own special gift comes with the most deeply felt joy I have ever experienced. Her laughter is my happiness. Her health and wellness is my peace.

Mini in her crib at 5.5 months old.

God is shining through her to me. Even when I don't think about it or see it. Every morning as I go to pick her up, yawning and wanting my coffee, she is happy to see me and giggles. Back in Oregon, I was single and able to spend much more "alone" time with God and concentrate only on Him. Now it is harder. But I want to experience these moments with my baby as much as I did back then. He is looking at me through her eyes, embracing me through her little arms, and filling my heart with laughter through her little voice.
It is a gift never to be taken for granted. And if I could tell my 24 year old self anything, I would tell her, "Enjoy this time, even through your pain. Because these moments are fleeting. But something even better is coming. So have hope."