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March 16, 2010

Baby Talk

How one child is born—and takes over my world.

I don’t know when it happened exactly, or why I didn’t see it coming. But there I was in my home office last night, and the change was undeniable. I don’t notice much around the house, except maybe where I left the remote, but this was an eye-opener. The small space that serves as my refuge and escape had been quietly transformed into a baby’s room.
 
Our 4-month-old granddaughter, Chloe, had taken command.

A big, brown stuffed bear with a contented smile and feet bigger than Sasquatch sat in my leather desk chair in the corner. We regarded each other for a moment. I wondered if he knew that was my favorite chair, or of he’d be more forthcoming after a few Manhattans.

The daybed in the corner is now a changing station for Chloe, complete with a yellow rubber ducky wearing a straw hat. This oversized stand-in for Huey, Louie or Dewey has a loveable face that any baby would find appealing. Actually, I kind of have a soft spot for him myself.

At the end of the bed is a crib—stationed strategically by the door. In fact, I can barely squeeze past the crib in my electric wheelchair. When I inched by it for the umpteenth time, I got the message loud and clear: This is Chloe’s room, Pop, and don’t you forget it.
 
Outside our bedroom is yet another contraption, a play chair with an animated LCD screen flashing with fish. When our granddaughter sits in it, the artificial fish swimming along with the music mesmerize her. And me.

Finally, next to my desk is the Moses basket, which was one of Chloe’s first portable cribs. She has outgrown it over the space of four months, so I know it’s headed to storeroom status, with the rest of Chloe’s diapers, nighties, baby clothes, towels and small toys.

It wasn’t long ago—when she still fit into the basket—that we were all staring down at her, making silly faces and noises to attract her attention. I’ve often wondered what this baby is thinking when she looks up at our bobbing faces as we make fools of ourselves to entertain her.

So it’s a little crowded these days in my office, what with bears and ducks and baskets and binkies. But I know when Chloe is older, and her baby days are over, these things will disappear. We will notice how fast she has grown, and how quickly she began walking and talking.
 
And, when Chloe is 15, we’ll wonder where the time went. We’ll remember her soft smile, gurgling sounds and antics like it was yesterday. We’ll remember every crinkle in her skin, her delicious baby smell. I’ll miss the feel of her nestled in my arms, her head tucked under my chin.
      
But what I’ll miss the most is seeing my wife, Margaret Mary, taking care of her granddaughter. This month is our 45th anniversary, and it’s the happiest I’ve seen Margaret Mary in years. She was—and is—a wonderful, caring mother, but Chloe has brought out the best of her maternal instincts. When I watch Margaret Mary change her, give her the bottle, bathe her and walk around with Chloe in her arms, I know that being a mother was a vocation she loved and—in fleeting moments—misses.
 
Chloe has given our family a new life and a new person to love. She has given us the next generation. Most of all, she has given us a mission: to give our grandchild every advantage possible in the hopes that one day she can become a parent and grandparent like those who so loved and cared for her.

Happy 45th, Margaret Mary.

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