Love At First Sight

It was love at first sight and, boy, was he a sight. Seven and a half pounds of sweetness lay there in the heated crib, tubes and wires snaking out from him, the ventilator like a stake down his throat. Sedated, he slept, unresponsive to our tentative touches.

Actually, it was love before first sight, love born in the joyful weeping of my daughter’s announcement: “I’m pregnant.” I loved Benjamin before I knew he was Benjamin. I loved him when I visited my daughter, proud with her cute five-month tummy. I loved him when I saw her blooming belly profiles at seven and eight months. I loved him when the scary news came about induced premature labor and caesarean section. I loved him, wishing the holes could be in my heart, not his. And I loved him as I saw the signs of Down Syndrome in his sweet almond eyes and unbroken lifelines across his wide palms.

I held him for the first time when he was about four weeks old as Dana left his NICU bedside for the mommy room to pump milk. (The nurse bent the rules for me.) I held him at Shawn and Dana’s home, the oxygen cord snaking across the room, the heart monitor letting out its scary blips and bleeps. I held him after my sister died in October, savoring the sweet baby weight that soothed and healed. I held him in February, astonished at how big he was. And I will be holding him again soon—tomorrow night or Tuesday morning.

Benjamin doesn’t have to do anything to earn my love. I love him because he is. I love him without knowing exactly who he will be. I delight in his unfolding personality. I’ll love him through good times and bad. He will never have to doubt that I love him.

As we celebrate Benjamin’s first birthday on May 22, I will hold him again and tell him how much Grandma Jan loves him. I’ll promise to love him forever. I’ll fall in love with him all over again. And I’ll think about the enormity of God’s grace and the infinity of His love for each of us.