Fifteen Pounds of Perfection

For the past few weeks, as we have been visiting in Rigby, I've had the opportunity of helping out with Macy, although for a four month old she is very low maintenance. I have been once again amazed at the miracle of an infant.

In the morning when she wakes, not by crying but by making just enough noise to get our attention, we lift her off of her tummy and place her on her back on the changing table. It has fallen to me on those occasions to unravel the mystery of her "onezy" and proceed with the diaper duty. Once released from her night garment, Macy's legs rejoice in their freedom and they kick with vigor. Her chubby feet have excellent tiny toes which she curls and stretches in infant exercise.

Next comes the diaper, always sopping and sometimes full of her processed formula. Her attentive sisters, Emma (8) and Lily (5), stand near the changing table sharing helpful comments, like, "My Mom doesn't do it like that," and "Look! It's green!"

Macy is very patient at my amateur efforts. Her diaper wipes are cold to her warm tush and she flinches a little, but doesn't cry. One sister observes, "My Mom doesn't use so many wipes". I explain I'm trying to clean in the many folds and wrinkles where the poop has hidden.

Then comes the new paper diaper. I cleverly observed how the old one had been attached to her tiny rump. So, with a minimum of tries the new one is on! Macy and I share a quick look of triumph. Maybe hers is one of relief. One of the sisters bring a new onezy. I groan. But the three of us team up to corral the runaway legs. She smiles at us. Her smile is dazzling

It's time to pick her up and move onto the next phase--the breakfast bottle. She's on formula and Emma knows the recipe. I asked Amanda the other day when she will start with pablum. "What's that?" she asks? Apparently pablum is a word remembered by only old folk. 

Macy settles into my arm and takes the bottle, grateful for the nourishment. Her beautiful tapered fingers delicately touch my hand as I hold her bottle. Her clear eyes, still deciding on their permanent color, look into mine and then around the room, tracking without flaw.  She is calm, which is one of her strong characteristics, warm and soft. After downing 6 oz she sits up and produces a belch worthy of a trucker. Carson laughs in approval.

For a while she plays with her toys and watches the antics of her sisters and brother. They swoop in with baby sounds and a kiss. Macy smiles and kicks. She is happy to be in this family where she knows she is welcome.

Later comes another bottle and a nap and the cycle of her young life continues. Physically, emotionally and spiritually Macy appears to be perfect. At this point she is fifteen pounds of perfection. What a blessing it has been to be able to share this moment with her.