My mind wandered.
Even after a span of nearly 44 years, I cannot forget the unique wonders of giving birth for the first time. Surely a bit of nostalgia tinges my thoughts, but mostly it's gratitude & awe that hold those memories captive. The hustle of nurses, bright lights & the albino aspects of a delivery room; antiseptic aroma. Light-hearted chatter; and even laughter.
Once again I stare at his wee face, tiny fingers & dimpled knees. I run my fingers over the the crown of dark curls on his head. I am startled by the perfection of his little lips. I breath deeply of his newborn scent ~ an incomparable elixir found nowhere on earth except, perhaps, a crushed rose petal.
A rush of love floods my soul. It still does.
My first thoughts at seeing him are in tact also; etched upon my heart for eternity: "Ahhhhh. At last I now know how much my mother loved me." And "Where & how did I tuck this little man inside me?"
Newborns. They tell us as much about God as anything or anyone.
(My mother surveying the newborn Bradley;
and no doubt re-living the grandeur of
her own maternal love.)