Baby Baby

Kristin sent me a text last week saying that she had been invited to do an interview on a local cable station. She asked me to contact one of my other volunteer speakers, a liver recipient, to join her. I did, but when this girl got back to me she said she was sorry but she couldn't make it as she couldn't line up a babysitter for her six month old son.

I quickly verified and found out that her baby would be welcomed on the set. "You can do the interview with him on your knee or I can hold him off camera but close by." I told her. This speaker is great, she had a great story and great chemistry with Kristin so I wanted to do everything I could to get her to come, even offer up my very limited babysitting talents.

The interview was yesterday afternoon. As it got closer I got nervous. Not about possibly being asked to join the interview panel, but about having to mind a small child, which I am not known for getting excited about. Also, this wasn't just any old baby, this one came from a young woman who is living on a donated liver and had to go off some of her meds in order to safely carry it.

Kristin and I arrived to the studio a few minutes behind due to me driving around the parking lot six times while having a bird about the lack of available spots. All flusteredness disappeared though when I saw The Baby. He had bright red hair, lots of smiles and even a dimple in his right cheek. The first thought that entered my head was, "oh good, he's cute. Really cute. This will make things much easier." 

The two gals got mic'd up and positioned at the interview table. The Baby was relaxing in his stroller/carseat/carrier thingamajig. When the lights dimmed and the tape started rolling I wheeled The Baby over to give him a better view of his mama, which hopefully would lessen chances of panic and tears.

The Baby didn't seem to mind at all that Mom was not nearby though. He smiled and looked around a lot. I noticed he was looking squirmy though, so again, in the name of ensuring an interruption-free interview, I decided to attempt picking The Baby up.

I got him into my arms without too much difficulty and he immediately latched on to my necklace and poked at my collarbone with his itty-bitty fingers. It tickled. He drooled and spit up a bit on my dress, sucked on the sleeve too but I didn't mind. He was quiet and happy so I was happy.

I walked around the room with The Baby and pointed out anything that might be remotely interesting, since he didn't seem to have the need to keep his eye on Mom. Sometimes I rocked him side to side, sometimes we bounced. As I did this I found myself talking to him. My voice was hushed, but the words and tone were entirely unrecognizable to me. I think I was cooing.

Where was this stuff all coming from? I didn't think I had any of this in me. Should I be concerned? It's not going to get all up in my brain now, is it, this baby-liking stuff? I don't want to be on the clock. I've heard about those ticking maternal clocks and how they can make a woman mad for offspring. Please Lord, do not send me any dancing baby hallucinations. I've got stuff to do yet.

Half-way through the interview I could see that The Baby was getting ready for a cry, a big one by the look of pain on his face. I quickly checked to make sure I wasn't pinching him in my belt or pinning his arm in some awkward position. I wasn't. On came the tears and the wails. I wanted to cry myself.

The Baby was just hungry. Nothing I could do. I handed The Baby over to The Mom so she could give him a bottle, which quietened him immediately.

I thought about The Baby today. Remembered the fun we had, how soft his skin was, how big his green eyes were and how cute his little dimpled smile was. Good times.