You Are So Beautiful to (Only?) Me

Before I was pregnant, I had a Simon Cowell-type reaction to most babies:

"No, darling, you're much too chubby. Bulging thighs? Won't do."

"Elf ears--seriously? Does Santa know you've escaped the workshop?"

"You're simply too skinny. I just can't see you on a Gerber jar."

"Pink is not the new tan. Please, please do away with the strawberry complexion."

You get the idea. I found most babies just as cute as their normal-sized counterparts. Some were cute, some weren't. I never was a I-Just-Love-Babies-Can-I-Hold-Yours sort of girl. I concluded that if I had a baby, I would (a) think he/she was adorable, because I was biased, or (b) know that my child was not a looker and feel terrible for knowing it. Really, what kind of mom says, "Wow, if I'd known she'd look like this, I'd have left her inside"? All moms are supposed to think their children are beautiful. I decided early on that my own habit of self-criticism would most likely affect the view of my children. I would be unable to find them cute because I tend to be harsh towards myself. If my kids had sweet faces, would I even know? More important, could I fake it if they didn't?

These thoughts I filed under "More Reasons I Shouldn't Have Kids." In my mind, motherhood requires a mix of Mother Goose, Maria (a la Sound of Music), and Mother Teresa--with a pinch of Mary Poppins. You can't be critical about appearances and be a mama, I thought.

Then, Rain was born. Babies are all scary looking when they are born, that's all there is to it. If you think differently, you haven't witnessed a delivery. Trust me, all newborns look like they're not quite "done" yet, if you know what I mean.

Days went by. Weeks and now months have followed. The other day, I was nursing Rain while reading a story on the Web. I became distracted and lost track of time. I assumed Rain had fallen asleep, because I no longer felt her nursing. When I looked down at her, her brown eyes were large and bright. She was smiling, waiting for me to notice.

Then I figured it out. She was beautiful. Really, really, beautiful. And, I didn't even care if anyone but me & Tim thought so.

Rose-tinted glasses must come with the New Parent Kit. That's fine by me.

PS-No, I did NOT buy a very pink bow for my daughter to wear! Said bow was purchased by her grandma, who can't find anything pink and princess enough for any of her granddaughters. But I love you, Ma!