Blessing

I woke up early on Sunday, and something was wrong. I didn't wake up at 4:00 A.M. For Bebe's feeding. It was 5:30! I thought to myself that she must be starving, and how could I sleep straight through a feeding. What was I thinking! I raced to the bassinet, and pressed the button for the small light. Our room was filled with a soft glow. As I looked into the crib I noticed something was missing. The baby was gone! Well she certainly hadn't fled on her own. I quietly crept into the living room, and found her on the couch snuggled up to my mom. An empty bottle sat on the coffee table. Everything was just fine. I went back to sleep for a half an hour. Then I knew I needed to get up and moving.
Church started at 10:00 A.M., and we needed to be there a few minutes early. Since our home was overflowing with company the sooner I took my shower, the better. I enjoy a good hot shower, but since I am typically self centered I don't think about anyone else wanting such things.
I took my time getting ready. Two hours later, I looked in the mirror. The last ten months of my life had been so full of change. In that time I had gained about fifty pounds, then in the course of a few hours I had lost thirty. Over the last five weeks I had lost an unknown amount. Since I refused to weigh myself I'll never really know, but by the way my cloths were fitting I felt like my prebaby weight was about fifteen pounds away. I could see myself again. I was completely ready, but I didn't want to put my dress & shoes on until the very last second. I didn't want to get messed up while I prepared Bebe for her big day. Yes, visions of projectile vomit, and other natural disasters raced through my head. I decided it would be best to wear my robe until it was time to leave.
When I entered the living room people were lazily milling around a few T.V.'s were on, and children were grazing on the many types of cereal they had found in the pantry. My husbands mother was feeding the baby. Bebe drank one ounce of her four ounce bottle. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to accomplish this task, and she began to cry in protest. My mother-in-law set the bottle down, and said that she wasn't hungry. I was pretty sure she was hungry. I knew that I hadn't fed her at 6:00 and I was pretty sure nobody else had. Even if she wasn't really hungry she needed to eat we had to stay on schedule. I grabbed the baby, and began trying to burp her. After about ten minutes I was rewarded for my efforts. Bebe ate two more ounces. Then I drew her a nice warm bath, and grabbed her special soap. She watched me carefully as I washed her. She didn't cry at all. It was like she knew this was a big event. I wrapped her warm little body in a soft fluffy towel, and took her to her room. We used her special lotion, and put her in her beautiful plain white slip. embroidered on the bottom was her full name, the name that she would be given in just a few hours time, and the date of her blessing. I sat her up, and brushed her hair. The actual dress was so enormous that we couldn't fit her into her car seat with it on so we decided to dress her when we got there. She was ready to go. The whole house was in an up roar of excitement, but I was calm, Bebe was calm, and while the house filled with more and more excitement we sat still in the rocking chair, and let the world spin around us. People were yelling, children were running. One little girl walked slowly to her grandma and said,"Grandma, I don't feel good." then passed out flat on her face on our tile bathroom floor with a smack. This shook me out of myself involved state of mind but only for a moment. I was so focused on my little miracle, that nothing could touch me for long.
Soon it was time to go. I handed Bebe over to her father so that they could have a little quiet time, while I got dressed. I smoothed my dress over my slip. They I went to put on my jewelry. I put on my earrings, then the necklace that I had been given for my very first Mother's Day. Then I looked at my engagement ring, and my wedding band. I hadn't worn them in over four months. I had been worried that my fingers would swell, and the rings would have to be cut off of me. I decided to try them on, just to see if they would fit. They did, and for the first time in months I felt dressed. I went to the closet, and from the top shelf I grabbed the bright yellow bag where I had hidden my own idea of treasure. I took the bag, and placed it on our cedar chest. I removed a yellow box with dark black bold print reading FENDI. Inside the box was a silky black bag. I opened the bag and removed the contents, two elegant black patent leather peep toe slingback four inch heels decorated with a large black on the toe. My treasure. A gift from my mother who had bought them from the flag ship store at the very end of the via Condotti in Rome, Italy for my twenty-fifth birthday. I hadn't been able to wear heels for months, my feet so painfully swollen wouldn't have fit into these ones even if I had possessed the balance to wear them, but now my feet slipped into them for the perfect fit. I was ready.
We drove four blocks to our church, and It was buzzing with activity already. We went in and found our bishop, and reminded him that we would be blessing our daughter that day. Then my husband introduced our bishop to his father, who would be giving the blessing. Bebe and I found seats, and we saw that the chapel was filled with family and friends. A feeling of warm gratitude washed over me. The meeting began, and soon it was time to bless my daughter.
I listened to her grandfather giving her the meaningful name we had carefully selected. A name which echos wisdom, strength, knowledge, and timeless beauty. She is named after a unique ancient church residing in Istanbul, Turkey. A building that has weathered centuries of change, and still stands steadfast. A true masterpiece. Her middle name is that of my late grandmother to always remind her of her family. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I let them come. In that moment I knew two things. I knew of the power and existence of God, and I knew that I had been allowed to participate in the greatest and most common of all miracles. I was a mother, and no matter what else happens in this life I will be eternally grateful for the endless joy motherhood brings me.
After the blessing the father usually holds his infant child up so that the entire congregation can see them. Some fathers do this timidly or they are so wrapped up in the moment that they forget about it altogether. Not my husband. Her was so proud of his beautiful little child that he held her up in a manner befitting a princess. Her lacy bonnet gracefully covering her head, her black hair peaking out from underneath it. Her intricate dress trailing long beyond the existence of her feet. upon seeing her face the congregation uttered a unison,"Awww...." It was one of the most meaningful moments of my life.
After church we went back to the house and started working on the food. Nothing from the day before turned out at all, and my streak of bad luck continued, as the bowl of frosting, which didn't set up at all, was dropped on the floor in the kitchen. It exploded from the stainless steel bowl and I found chocolate marshmallow mess in very strange places for the next several months. Luckily the hamburgers turned out perfect. Of course I can't take any credit for that. My mother who owned a local drive-in restaurant for over thirty years cooked and decorated the burgers for me.
It was a perfect mess of a day, but yes it was, in my opinion, perfect.