Holding a Baby's Joy--and a Baby's Pain

Sometimes living a simple life is as simple as watching what a child needs.

Yesterday we stood in a long line on the linoleum of a midcentury post office watching the lone clerk. Four o'clock in the afternoon is a trying time for babies and adults. My little guy, on the verge of fussing, kept himself busy by smiling at whomever would meet his eyes. When the adults looked at me questioningly, I encouraged them to engage with the baby. Keeping everyone a little happier, I thought.

There was another baby there, also five months old, crying like a little animal. This is the sound that grates on your heart. He needed to be held, clear as words. His papa looked into the stroller and told him he was OK. The baby opined otherwise. When was finally picked up, he quieted and looked around with satisfied little eyes. He had all he needed. But then, it was time to go, and back to the stroller. The man said, "You don't have a choice, buddy. You don't have a choice," over and over to his son as the little boy cried across the glossy lobby and out the door.

I smelled the hair of the little boy riding on my chest. Mumbled the Jizo mantra to his scalp. How difficult to be a baby, to suffer and cry so much, even in the best of situations.

OM KA KA KABI SAN MA E SOWA KA

I wanted to lecture that man: You DO have a choice to hold your baby, I wanted to say. My goodness, all babies are cranky at 4pm. But it's OK to baby a baby! Hold your son now, while he'll still let you. You have years to guide him into the man you imagine you want him to be.You can't possibly spoil him now.

But they went on their way, and I still don't know what, if anything I should have done. A new father, with a new son. Perhaps caught up in some idea of toughness and competence. Perhaps not: my assumptions spilled forth as fast as my unwanted advice. I can only take this scene for what it teaches me about myself: the crying, the compassion, the fierce defense of babyness.

Today, with a newfound tenderness for my wiggling little boy, I take us up the stone steps, up up to Portland's Japanese Garden. The baby cranes his neck to see the koi, who glide through patches of bright and dark water--golden, and painted. Clouds of bugs are busy above. The air sings with water rushing and trickling; and the sound of rake on gravel.

Over our heads, a squirrel works a hundred-foot fir tree. Cones plummet down, one every few seconds. We watch from a safe distance.

Douglas-fir trees
Originally uploaded by oldmantravels

In this place, it is easy to feel what the baby needs. The baby needs to look at the waterfall and to observe the gardeners raking the gravel. When he is finished he looks up into your face.

What do I know now? We as parents will somehow guide these little creatures into the full light of their humanity. In due time, they show us how to lead them, if we'll listen. At five years, you can teach restraint, proper behavior, manners. But at five months, it's simple: hold your baby.