Born today, Mother’s Day, in Urbana, Illinois, to my sister Theresa and her husband George. Eight pounds, thirteen ounces. The first of our next generation. Named for two of her great grandmothers, it’s fascinating to feel the power of names well-given, to notice our love for two great women, in two families, invited and bestowed upon this squirmy little blue-eyed bundle.
I visited the hospital this evening, where everybody’s doing well. Amazing to me, the seamlessness of life. I’ve never been so close to a birth. This little person was inside of my sister yesterday? How crazy is that, the first time we really get to see it happen? Tess was five hours old when we met.
On the drive down, I could not have imagined the scene, could not imagine where she, nor I, would fit into it. But when I walked into the hospital room, everything and everyone was exactly and perfectly fitted to everything and everyone else. Life expanded and expanding without bump or edge or seam. I got to hold and hum her for most of her sixth and seventh hours of life. Tiny body, spacious heart. Long life.