Baby Cuddles and the Meaning of Life

I knew having a baby was life changing, but until it was my own son, I confess: I didn’t truly understand.

At times it’s hard, it’s tiring, it’s frustrating.

Luca cries and gets cranky; he’s upset when I don’t let him chew my cell phone; he refuses to fall asleep when he desperately needs it, and when every fiber of my being wants to lay my own head on my pillow.

But I’ve never been more grateful for any earthly thing in all my life.

When I met Joe, a whole new world of emotion opened up to me. It was like a faucet turned on. Literally—I started crying over emotions more than ever before; I felt life more deeply.

Having a child, for me, has been a different kind of falling in love—something I didn’t fully know was waiting for me on the other side of pregnancy.

I’ve felt worry before, but never so acutely. I’ve treasured memories before, but never so deeply.

Like when I make Luca giggle, or find something that draws out his now-toothy grin. When I figure out what need he is trying to communicate and then fill it. When I read him stories while he watches me with those giant brown eyes. When Luca rests his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes, trusting me enough to hold him while he finally gives in to his sleepiness.

In those rocking-chair moments particularly, when my heart nearly splits its seams, I am convinced that a baby’s cuddles hold a key to life's meaning.

My short stint at motherhood has offered me a first-hand glimpse at what I believe God’s heart must be like as he watches us.

He doesn’t want us to suffer. He feels our pain. He wants the best for us. When we are anxious over getting what we want—and even throw fits about it—he is there, longing for us to lay our heads on his shoulder and close our eyes. To trust him enough to let our worries slip away into peace and the rest we so desperately need.

I always thought of God as a father, but I realize now he is also very much a mother.

The Roller Coaster

Luca’s impossibly soft cheeks; his grins, his giggles.

That wiggly, smiley squeal when I pick him up—even if it’s 3am and he’s decided it’s a good time to play.

The ability to put himself to sleep for his morning nap after playing alone in his crib for half an hour.

These are things I do not take for granted, things I’ve seen—sometimes—this past week.

I thought the worst was over after the flare up that landed us in Samsung Medical Center in January, but this latest flare was as good as any of them.

We were discharged from our third hospitalization in five weeks last Tuesday, and afterward it seemed my little man was making up for lost time, with extra energy to play and interact.

He’s still itchy, but when I see him like this, I hope.

Maybe now the worst is over, I tell myself. Except that is what I thought the last time, and I’m seeing suspicious signs again. Maybe I’m just paranoid.

This time, we stayed at the military hospital on base, and American nursing care was a breath of fresh air. In Korea, hospitals expect the family to do most of the hands-on care; I hear people hire helpers if they don’t have family to help. And the cultural hierarchy is tangible: Doctors are the center of the universe, particularly our allergist, who everyone referred to as “The Professor.”

It is just different.

At the military hospital, the nurses did all his wet dressings and brought me water. They constantly asked: Can I do anything else for you? The staff removed my used food trays. The military doctors took time to explain Luca’s care and answer my questions. Luca’s care revolved around us.

These are things I do not take for granted.

And, as a bonus, I had a full-time, dedicated nurse by my side: Sometimes a girl just needs her mom.

My mom arrived in Seoul on Saturday to the news we were in the ER, waiting for admission. She booked her tickets a few weeks before to help me manage Luca’s care at home—perhaps give me a few full nights of sleep—but her help in the hospital was vital; she came just in time.

This is something I do not take for granted.

Now, a few days after returning home again, I’m nervous. Yes, he’s still playing well (for the most part). Yes, I'm vigilant about his skin treatment and avoiding potential allergens (i.e. any solid foods).

But he’s gotten a bit crankier, again. And now he has trouble settling and staying asleep for his naps. He cries more than usual, scratches his knees back and forth on the mattress, rubs his head or pulls his ears.

Yesterday, parts of his skin seemed splotchy red, just slightly. Just enough to worry me.

But Luca still grins at me from across the room while he plays with his Nana, so I suppose tomorrow can worry about itself.

Right now, he is healthy. And this is something I do not take for granted.