“Baby” is a lovely little poem by George Macdonald. I happened upon it while pregnant with my son, whose first birthday is tomorrow.
I can barely remember life before my son came into being, before I knew he was growing inside of my womb. I feel he has been with me always, and I love him with my entire being. On this, the eve of his first birthday, I find my mood both elated and melancholy. What joy my son brings to my life! What sadness I feel for every moment I did not fully appreciate during this past year…
Read Macdonald’s poem. It will tug at your heart.
My son’s eyes are not blue, and his forehead is not “smooth and high,” but I marvel at him just the same. And I often wonder, “Where did you come from, baby dear?” Now, I know all about the birds and the bees. What I mean is that I wonder about the essence of my son– his personality, his character, his soul.
He amazes me, and I wonder how he came to be and how he came to be ours: “But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here.”
I don’t think there’s much more that I could possibly add to that.
Cavemama off to dry her eyes and love on her baby boy.