Blue Sky

by Kate Geiselman

I am awakened by a tiny squeak, and the distinctive, crackling sound of the disposable diaper on my squirming baby. I open one eye, just to check. It's only a stretch - she's sound asleep - tiny, rosebud lips moving rhythmically, sucking on a dream-nipple. Does she remember the darkness? The swish of the warm water? The sound of my heart? Being pushed abruptly into a cold, bright, loud place? The first words I said to her were "I'm sorry."

But now, as she lies beside me in the pre-dawn darkness, I have no apologies. I rub her stomach gently, feeling her small chest rise and fall beneath her yellow sleeper. Our bodies warm the bed, and on her face is the blissful peace only babies know.

I have to get up in half an hour. I have to go to work. I have to put gas in the car. I have to get groceries. I have to catch up.

She sighs in her sleep, and her baby thumb stumbles to her mouth. Suddenly, I don't have to do anything at all. Her oblivion is contagious. The only thing I have to do is be her mother, and, much to my surprise, it's the easiest thing I've ever done. Despite the sleepless nights, the fears, and the messy details of caring for a totally dependent human being, loving her is like breathing: automatic and live-sustaining.

"You will never know," I whisper to her in the dark, and as I look at her perfect, dimpled hand, I realize that she will never love me the same way I love her. Every mother loves more than she is loved. I feel no sadness or envy at this realization-it just comes to me as an absolute truth-like suddenly noticing that the sky is blue, and it has been all along, and I just haven't been paying attention.

Pale light seeps in through the bedroom window. I don't want to move. I don't want to get up. I don't want to leave her. I bury my nose in the pink folds of her neck and inhale deeply. This will have to sustain me for the day, so I savor her scent, lingering as long as I can. Later, while I'm miles away, I will be able to summon it up during a rare, quiet moment and pretend that she is with me.

Fueled by baby-smell, I go to the window and open the blinds. The stars are fading, and the sky today is a crisp, clear blue.