When you’ve had a shitty day, and nothing’s gone your way, there’s that face. That baby face. Her wall-eyed open mouthed smile of supreme happiness is better than all the drugs in the world. My breath catches in my throat, a tear springs to my eye and my own smile paints my face with joy.
Her first few weeks of life, there was no reward. Just toiling. It was constant labor (pun intended) to keep this little baby alive, and sure, she was cute, but was she happy? Was she content? If she wasn’t crying, we had to assume that was the case.
It’s so different now. Four months, and I’ve got a happy, grinning, laughing, whining bundle of emotions. When I’m having another epic shitty day, (they happen,) all I need to do is catch her eye, give her a “Hi, Baby!” in an enthusiastic voice, and I’m rewarded with this drool covered, gum-filled, pink-lipped gleeful smile – and my heart just melts