The punks.
I kid.
The babies made me “cry happy” as my daughter would say.
First, I cried because we got a new member to my tribe; my family . My girl had her sweet baby, a beautiful daughter, a niece to me, whom I love already.
And when my friend told me how she couldn’t possibly love her baby any more, how she felt so inherently protective of her, when she referred to me as her “aunt”, I cried. When I saw the babies face in precious pictures, I cried. When my friend told me that having her daughter in the hospital reminded her of watching me at my baby boy’s Bris, looking so nervous and unsure when they passed him around on a pillow from person to person, I cried.
I cried happy.
Then last night, as I was giving my son his bedtime bottle, he started to fight me. And since my baby is a giant baby, it is hard to wrangle him. And then, I started to sing. I sang Hallelujah. And he quieted, stopped fighting and started to drink. And then he started to coo along. And then I started to cry.
This has been such an emotional ride. I still feel very raw, very exposed, at times, always on the verge of my emotions pouring out,
but the world has changed now; it has become more beautiful. My childhood friend and I have babies 6 months apart. I have so much to be grateful for.
And so it’s okay to cry.
Especially if you cry happy.