Baby-love

Recently Judah's learned to say the 3 sweetest little words:

"I...love...mommy!"

The first time I heard him say it was actually over the baby monitor as he was waking up in the morning.  I thought to myself, "No way!  He doesn't know those words, does he?!"  Even if he does know the words, I'm still doubtful he really knows what they mean.

But the very next day, the spouse asked him "Do you love mommy?"

And he chanted "I...love...mommy!" in his halting way.

And then he followed it up with "I...love...Di-yah-yah!" (I assume he's referring to himself--healthy esteem or major narcissist? hmmmm.)

Sometimes I really marvel at how wonderful a baby/toddler's love is.  I remember, long ago, when I was young, gorgeous and childless (and happy and carefree and bubbling with life and...you get the picture)...but I digress...I remember hearing someone say that baby-love is the closest thing to unconditional love.

I thought that person was crazy.

How can a helpless baby give you anything, much less love, much less unconditional love--the highest, purest form of love?

But now I understand.  I get it.

When Judah was just 4 months old, a helpless little blob, I often felt completely crappy.  Running around attending to a colicky baby for 3+ months had taken its toll on me (and sadly for those around me, on my hygiene).  It was all I could do to shower every 3 days and slap some moisturizer on my face.  My clothes looked sad.  My hair was sad.  My un-worked-out body had gone completely flabby with neglect.

I felt like the human equivalent of poop.

I remember being at a social function and feeling so horribly inadequate.  I was not pretty, or witty, or fun, or sparkly.  I was sleep-deprived, slow, sort of stinky, and not at all cute.  I had not been a good friend, or member of society for months as I had been holed-up in my cave of colickiness. 

I've never felt less-loved or less-lovable in the eyes of the world.

Feeling utterly defeated, I finally slinked back home to my baby.

Whose eyes lighted up upon seeing my face.

Whose arms reached out to me.

Who giggled and cooed with delight at my smiles.

The whole world may despise me, but my baby loved me.

The whole world may reject me, but my baby wanted me above all else.

My baby accepted me just as I was.

Just as flawed and broken as I am.