Just the thought of them used to make my uterus want to shoot up further into my body, like a jellyfish, squirm up my esophagus, tickle my uvula, and splatter itself across the ground in front of me. On July 27th, 2013, my thoughts about infants lightened when I met the most beautiful soul to grace my life: Milo Cooper Cayden Hall.
Both parents are people who I can’t remember not knowing. The mother is my best friend, but a best friend that goes beyond the ties of friendship. We can be away from each other for months and months on end, but when we reunite, it is as though we were never apart. This is why I think of her as a sister.
Growing up, I remember Alyssa and I pondering about what we would name our children. I don’t remember my own options, probably because they were super mainstream and boring. Alyssa’s options, however, were definitely memorable.
“I want to name my kid ‘Cabbage’!” the little weirdo said.
Like Alyssa, the father is someone who also brightened up my yesteryear. My memories of James are nothing but fun, happiness, and good times. Both Alyssa and James have colourful personalities, and happy, golden faces, which is why I am not surprised that they have made such a beautiful child.
They’re cute, and so is their kid.
Don’t get me mistaken, my internal clock is not ticking by any means. In fact, my internal clock continues to be a stopwatch, and the “start” button is broken indefinitely.
I am pleasantly surprised that although I, a young woman who is about to begin her Masters degree in Journalism, with a focus on feminism, have spent plenty of hours researching motherhood and births, meeting little baby Milo has taught me a lesson that my $40,000 student loan could never teach me:
Although he could not speak, as I gazed into his pondering eyes, Milo sent a lightening bolt of realization down my spine. I am only now beginning to recognize the fluidity of life, and this guidance has put disorder into my, otherwise, structured livelihood. My lovestruck mind, brimming with thoughts I had never thought, and my heart, full of emotions I had never felt, could only pull the words,
“He has perfect ears!”
When a child holds your heart in his or her little fingies, to you, they are the embodiment of utopia. Every piece of them is equally as beautiful, which makes it difficult to muster up the words that can appropriately express your emotions.
Milo made me understand the true beauty of life.
Seeing Milo, a perfect blend of both his mommy and daddy’s features, creates a pleasant confusion in my mind. To my surprise, this confusion is absolutely bearable because it’s not something to be understood, it’s something to be felt and embraced. Life, and all its unpredictability, has a erratic way of creating happiness, and it is this spontaneity that builds the most precious occurrences that life has to offer us.
And that, my friends, is the beauty of life.