The combined total weight of the two babies were barely seven pounds.
They weren’t twins, yet they were so similar.
The parents who struggled to conceive them.
The ones who paid thousands of dollars in care.
The ones who ended up delivering very early.
Both parents so very involved in their care, jumping at any opportunity to do kangaroo care.
I barely had any hands on time with them as their nurse, because the families were so very present.
Then, there is the young teenager who delivered her baby yesterday.
She struggled, she cried, she pushed, she screamed, she gave up, then tried again.
All without drugs.
All without a secure future.
All with barely the beginnings of a high school education.
All with a mother’s heart.
She cried at the placement of her brand new baby on her chest.
She said the words, “mama loves you, baby.”
Although these families are so very different, there is one thing the same.
They love their babies with every ounce of their beings.
I am one of the lucky ones who gets to be present when a woman becomes a mother.
It might be for the first time, it might be for the ninth time.
No time is the same.
Each baby unique, special, and with its own gifts.
Some of us know that life isn’t guarenteed.
Even when it’s with new life.
Hearts may be malformed. Vessels imperfect. Organs immature. Functions failing.
But it doesn’t change how I view them.
They are messengers.
They are beautiful.
They are unlike any other.
And if I just keep remembering that, my belief in good things can be sustained.
I can take a deep breath and say thank you to God and the Universe,
for allowing me to have just a bit more faith,
a bit more love,
and bit more acceptance of what is.