I figured that after all these years of childbearing I had probably become immune to its allure, but yesterday morning I found out differently. One minute I was sitting cooly in my obstetrician’s office (okay, as cooly as one can sit while wearing one of those preposterous paper get-ups they call “johnnies”) and discussing the various challenges and benefits of homeschooling. I was a normal, grown-up, reasonable adult woman. In the next minute, however, with a flip of a switch on the ultrasound machine, I was reduced to mushy blob of motherly emotion.
Mesmerized by the fluid, fuzzy, black and white image on the screen, I melted and gushed “Ooooh, look… he’s sucking his thumb!”
And he was. Had any baby ever sucked a thumb so sweetly? Had any baby ever kicked with such striking confidence? Did ever any child in the history of the universe swim with such perfect strokes or twist and turn with such graceful style? What tiny hands! What adorable feet! What a delightful little dancer!
When the doctor turned off the machine, she handed me a printed picture- a hazy, indistinct representation of the miniature person we had just been spying on. I clutched it in my hands, scrutinized it, and then tucked it carefully in my purse.
Now it is on my refrigerator where I’ve already looked at it and re-looked at it about a dozen times, always with a big goofy grin on my face.
Who would have thought? I’m still a sucker after all these years.