Growing up I thought babies were the cutest creatures in the universe and oh-so fun to have around. And I always thought and that one day I will have one of my own, just part of the traditional order of things: meet a man, get married, have babies, repeat with the next generation. And I wanted that. I really, really did.But then, over time, something shifted. I got older. Life started to unroll in front of me. Real life. Not just those blissful early years that look like a blur of wishing on stars, Popsicle, piano practice and incessantly long school days. I went to college. I started a career... I grew up. My friends and I vented over how overwhelming adulthood was, how hard it was finding decent men to date—not to mention it was clear I had a lot of personal journeying to do before settling down. As I thought about, dabbled in and eventually wrote about romantic love, I had to wonder if a good partner actually existed for me. Where was he?
I fantasized about marriage, about a wedding and that incredible husband... but with all the pressures and stressors life piled onto my shoulders, babies had fallen off my wish list. I just didn't feel that longing anymore. The maternal instincts that I'd once been convinced were programmed in me—somewhere between womanly intuition and romantic attraction—had somehow dissolved. I couldn't picture myself rocking a newborn in the early morning hours or changing innumerable dirty diapers. Maybe sleepless nights, dark circles painted under my eyes, disheveled hair and spit-up stains weren't for me after all. I mean, that was the essence of motherhood, right? Taking care of myself was challenging enough. I couldn't imagine feeling responsible for another person's survival. Maybe I'd lost something over the years. Or maybe, as much as the notion hurt me, I just didn't have it in me.
But then, it happened. I hadn't just imagined those early instincts.
Last November, my nephew was born. I remember the trip to visit him in the hospital, his first day on this earth. The hallway to that hospital room was long and dim, and I grew tentative as I approached, hearing a rush of activity and visitors inside. When I entered, suddenly all eyes were on me. "Do you want to hold him?" my sister asked. And the next thing I remember is observing this tiny, perfect little human who was resting in my arms.
He didn't cry. He never opened his eyes. He just slept soundly near my heart, his little body rising and falling with every breath. As I looked at him, I knew:
This baby is going to change my life.
Suddenly, it all came back to me. Loving a baby was a natural skill. I congratulated the parents on their beautiful child, and I left the hospital a couple hours later understanding why so many women became mothers. It's a gift. And since last November I've discovered that being an aunt is one too.
I've watched him grow from a tiny infant, to an inquisitive baby, to a fearless toddler and now a joyful little boy. I've often mused that while his mom and grandma are his caretakers, I'm more like his buddy. We play with toys and wander the house together trying to walk, step by step. I tote him on my hip and show him the falling leaves, the sun setting. His personality develops little by little, everyday, and my perspective on life—and my understanding of my role in the universe—evolves right along with it.
That's the great thing about being an aunt, especially if you are lucky enough to experience it before you become a mother. It's a taste of what's ahead, a perspective-changer. I see life as a step-by-step process and, like babies taking their first steps, we all progress at different paces. But it's important to think ahead, to anticipate the later steps while you're still mid-stride on the present one.
Also very importantly, being an aunt has highlighted, underlined and bolded my priorities as I search for romantic love. Mr. Right must have the qualities of a good father—sensitivity, commitment, flexibility, selflessness, strength and quiet confidence. He needs to be the head of the household, and be a caring dad, because that's the other thing about being an aunt. Although I'm a buddy most of the time, I'm also a caretaker when my nephew needs me. I give him hugs when he cries. I know when he's hungry, tired or just crabby from teething. Babies need non-stop assurance and patience... just like us. My nephew has given me one of the greatest gifts I will ever receive: an understanding of what it means to love. Thanks to what he's taught me, I now know I'm capable of being a not only a wife, but a mom. I have a (nearly) one-year-old to thank for that. While today I'm an aunt, a buddy and friend, I can see myself transitioning into the role of mother. Until I met my nephew, I had no idea how much love I had to give. Now I get what raw, real human love looks like. It's selfless. It's unconditional. No strings attached. It's necessary in any great relationship. And it's something I will seek out in a spouse as I move, step by step, through my life.
I fantasized about marriage, about a wedding and that incredible husband... but with all the pressures and stressors life piled onto my shoulders, babies had fallen off my wish list. I just didn't feel that longing anymore. The maternal instincts that I'd once been convinced were programmed in me—somewhere between womanly intuition and romantic attraction—had somehow dissolved. I couldn't picture myself rocking a newborn in the early morning hours or changing innumerable dirty diapers. Maybe sleepless nights, dark circles painted under my eyes, disheveled hair and spit-up stains weren't for me after all. I mean, that was the essence of motherhood, right? Taking care of myself was challenging enough. I couldn't imagine feeling responsible for another person's survival. Maybe I'd lost something over the years. Or maybe, as much as the notion hurt me, I just didn't have it in me.
But then, it happened. I hadn't just imagined those early instincts.
Last November, my nephew was born. I remember the trip to visit him in the hospital, his first day on this earth. The hallway to that hospital room was long and dim, and I grew tentative as I approached, hearing a rush of activity and visitors inside. When I entered, suddenly all eyes were on me. "Do you want to hold him?" my sister asked. And the next thing I remember is observing this tiny, perfect little human who was resting in my arms.
He didn't cry. He never opened his eyes. He just slept soundly near my heart, his little body rising and falling with every breath. As I looked at him, I knew:
This baby is going to change my life.
Suddenly, it all came back to me. Loving a baby was a natural skill. I congratulated the parents on their beautiful child, and I left the hospital a couple hours later understanding why so many women became mothers. It's a gift. And since last November I've discovered that being an aunt is one too.
I've watched him grow from a tiny infant, to an inquisitive baby, to a fearless toddler and now a joyful little boy. I've often mused that while his mom and grandma are his caretakers, I'm more like his buddy. We play with toys and wander the house together trying to walk, step by step. I tote him on my hip and show him the falling leaves, the sun setting. His personality develops little by little, everyday, and my perspective on life—and my understanding of my role in the universe—evolves right along with it.
That's the great thing about being an aunt, especially if you are lucky enough to experience it before you become a mother. It's a taste of what's ahead, a perspective-changer. I see life as a step-by-step process and, like babies taking their first steps, we all progress at different paces. But it's important to think ahead, to anticipate the later steps while you're still mid-stride on the present one.
Also very importantly, being an aunt has highlighted, underlined and bolded my priorities as I search for romantic love. Mr. Right must have the qualities of a good father—sensitivity, commitment, flexibility, selflessness, strength and quiet confidence. He needs to be the head of the household, and be a caring dad, because that's the other thing about being an aunt. Although I'm a buddy most of the time, I'm also a caretaker when my nephew needs me. I give him hugs when he cries. I know when he's hungry, tired or just crabby from teething. Babies need non-stop assurance and patience... just like us. My nephew has given me one of the greatest gifts I will ever receive: an understanding of what it means to love. Thanks to what he's taught me, I now know I'm capable of being a not only a wife, but a mom. I have a (nearly) one-year-old to thank for that. While today I'm an aunt, a buddy and friend, I can see myself transitioning into the role of mother. Until I met my nephew, I had no idea how much love I had to give. Now I get what raw, real human love looks like. It's selfless. It's unconditional. No strings attached. It's necessary in any great relationship. And it's something I will seek out in a spouse as I move, step by step, through my life.
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