Sunday around 5 pm, my brother- and sister-in-law welcomed our nephew, baby Hayden, into the world. I was up until after midnight on Saturday knitting furiously, and finally finished the blanket around 10:30 am on Sunday morning - just in time to give it a quick bath and a tumble through the dryer before heading to the hospital.
We knew that he was arriving a little sooner than expect, so as I worked on the blankie this weekend, I settled into a happy rhythm, thinking of this tiny little person with every stitch: how he is in this tender liminal space of being; how our world is made a little more new and hopeful by his entry into it; how that joy changes our hearts in the strangest and most sudden of ways.
So I knitted, and I slept, and I woke Sunday morning thinking, baby. And I knitted, and I knitted, and my arm cramped up, and then I bound off all my stitches and soaked the blanket in warm water and woolwash, and still I thought baby. And then I waited for the call and nervous-cleaned - scrubbed my bathroom sink and loaded the dishwasher and vacuumed under the oven - and thought, baby.
And then it happened. We got the call, and we drove to the hospital, and we waited - not very long - and then we were meeting him for the first time, and it just struck me over and over like so many waves. I have no idea what color his eyes will be, or what he looks like when he laughs, or if he likes green beans, and yet I'm standing here awkwardly clutching a knitted blanket that I made for him while I imagined all the feelings I didn't yet feel for him, and he's whuffling softly in his sleep, and I am absolutely dumb - struck and adrift and in awe.
Here are his mother and father suddenly ageless in their limbs, this new weight of love in their eyes. Here are my parents-in-law, holding the baby of their baby and seeing each future fall into place ahead of us. Here is my husband standing quietly holding my hand, both of our hearts silently overfilling with the thought of someday.
But most of all, here is baby Hayden, who gnaws the knuckles of his right hand and creases his eyes a little deeper in sleep. And it is perfectly, wonderfully, enough.
Happy Monday, friends.