Amy The Baby Whisperer

You guys see this? You guys see Baby Hazel, right? See how she’s sleeping? See how she’s sleeping in my arms? Guess what, when I first took her from her mom at Small Group last week, she was yowling her head off. Fretting and crying and sounding not unlike an exotic jungle bird AHHH! AHHH! AHHH!

Hazel was not having a good night at Small Group, and not because we’re going through Chapter 5 of Ephesians with its many list of don’ts. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk, or coarse joking…have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness…do not be foolish…do not get drunk on wine (doesn’t say anything about margaritas! Yay!)

I wanted to give Hazel’s mom a break, so I volunteered to hold Hazel to see if I could get her to calm down without stuffing a dishrag in her mouth. But I was also secretly wanting to hold her, she would be the youngest baby I’ve ever held (now up to 17 days old.)

So Hazel’s mom handed her over, and I did the standard walk and rock routine that’s probably genetically programmed into every woman, regardless if they want kids or not. Hazel’s maybe seven or eight pounds or so, and it was quite interesting to feel those tiny lungs expand underneath the grip of my hands as she AHHH! AHHH! AHHH! ed her frustration at, at, at, what? Diaper’s fine. She doesn’t want milk. She can see mom over my shoulder. Oh, it’s life. Trust me, I feel like AHHH! AHHH! AHHH! ing my way through life these days too, little one. Oh, yes I do.

So I started crooning 80s songs to her, in one of those half whisper, half singing styles. I started with my favorite 80s song to sing to a baby, which would be Til Tuesday’s “Voices Carry.” (I start with verse 2.)

I try so hard not to get upset.
Because I know all the trouble I’ll get
Oh, he tells me tears are something to hide
And something to fear
And I try so hard to keep it inside
So no one can hear

Hush, keep it down now. Voices carry.

I pulled this one on Winifred’s newborn over the Christmas holiday and it seemed to work out pretty well, though he was already in his baby chair. This is trying to soothe a cranky baby, which is quite the different story.

But she stopped fretting and started watching me sing. It’s the lipstick, I think. I have the penchant for wearing it 24/7, unless I’m at the gym. Or asleep. Or I forgot to take it off.

I took the walk and rock routine into the kitchen, where the light is off. I’m suspecting that she WANTS to go to sleep, she just needs the darkness to edge her along. Like throwing a blanket over the bird’s cage so it thinks it’s nighttime and time to go to sleep.

I switch to Big Country’s, “In A Big Country”

I’ve never seen you look like this without a reason
Another promise fallen through, another season passes by you.
I never took the smile away from anybody’s face
And that’s a desperate way to look for someone who is still a child.

In a big country dreams stay with you
Like a lover’s voice fires the mountainside
Stay alive

I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered
But you can’t stay here with every single hope you had shattered.

See, I think Hazel needs to learn these things sooner rather than later, ha ha ha.

But soon, soon, sooner than soon, her little eyelids fluttered closed, and yes, she did fall asleep. Because of me! I did it! I sang and rocked that baby to sleep! I won the Baby Whisperer Game! Yay me!

I wanted to make sure she truly was asleep, so I kept rocking and walking in circles around the kitchen. Looking at this tiny thing asleep in my arms.

I LOVE being held. I dig it so much. If every day was Christmas in Amyland, I’d be carried around by a big strong man all day. I LOVE snuggling on the couch with a dude. I wouldn’t force him to watch Grey’s Anatomy, we could watch whatever, as long as I can curl up next to him. And yeah, it unfortunately has to be a guy. The girly thing where we get manicures and braid our hair, and hug each other in Girly Solidarity doesn’t do a thing for me. It has to be a guy. It’s the attraction to strength, I think.

But it’s such a primal thing, to want to be held. You feel safe, you feel secure. You feel like the person holding you will take care of you, or at least won’t drop you. Somebody else is in charge for a change, and that person knows exactly what’s going on, and that person is here for you, he’s got you, and he’s not going to let you fall.

And I know the obvious parallel, that what I’m describing is exactly what God the Father is supposed to be. Not supposed to be. He is. But again, the Great Agony of my life is that I don’t FEEL it. And if I’m supposed to feel God’s love through interactions with other people, I’m not getting that either.

But I can be it for Baby Hazel. I can be the things for other people that I want people to be for me. And hopefully it’ll come back around in some form or another and I will be nestled in somebody’s arms someday.

And as I walked back out into the living room, displaying the Sleeping Hazel like a triumphant hunting trophy, Hazel’s mom said yay and we took the picture to prove that it happened. And I was indeed a conquering hero, for about 20 minutes.

Until Hazel woke up again and started to cry. That’s when I left. HA!