Here's Looking At You, Kid

A lot went down this week: real life soap operas gave me new episodes and took dramatic turns, graduates graduated, weather patterns took a devastating toll, sports teams won and lost, earnings were released, and countless other headlines produced emotional responses from people around the world. But in babyland - that blissful, oblivious bubble of a world where I'm living - everything seemed copacetic.

Ten must be a magic number when it comes to infant development and my role in it, because at ten weeks things just seemed easier. Gardening and parenting worked in tandem, I slipped into my pre-pregnancy jeans more gracefully, feedings got fewer and farther between, the notion of a good night sleep reentered my vocabulary, and Mary, well she was happier than ever.

Snuggled up in my arms, warm, safe and well fed, she gave me these long, lingering, content looks. Her eyes locked on mine, and mine on hers. My dad caught her doing it when he was visiting on Thursday. He commented on how special it was - how she was telling me that I was her everything. I had felt that before, but when my Dad put it into words, it clicked. And it felt amazing.

In a world filled with too many words, spending time quietly looking into my baby's eyes is so refreshing. Sure, I'm not certain of all the things she's thinking, but I know she can feel and understand my 'It's Mommys' and 'I love yous.' And as she smiles back at me, I know she's saying something like 'Mary loves Mommy too.' 

It's no wonder that when we have visitors - like one from our good friend C. on Tuesday and one from Opa on Thursday - that their eyes are easily diverted from a caviar and champagne clad dinner table right to Mary and her little eyes. 

Back in Pittsburgh, there's another person in need of some serious eye attention right now. Someone who knows that baby look and all that it holds well - a woman who nurtured and nourished eight little ones of her own. But now her gaze and perhaps a signature wink are the only ways she can communicate. And like Mary and all of her babies, I know that when my Grandma's eyes are open she's telling her daughters, son, and grandchildren that they are her everything. That she loves them immeasurably. And that though she doesn't want to leave them, she can't wait to jitterbug with the love of her life in heaven soon.   

From miles away, stuck in babyland for the time being, we are communicating with Grandma Barry in our own way - through prayer and through reflection. And as Mary looks at me, begging me to say something new, I've been telling her about her beautiful, wonderful Great Grandma who would have just loved her so much. 

Lo.