When my brother walked into my living room, I was sprawled on the couch, and the baby was asleep on my chest.

“You look content,” he said. I smiled, knowing it was only temporary.

My niece Sarah, her boyfriend Ryan, and baby Bailey Quinn moved in with me for two months as Ryan transitioned out of the military. They are preparing for their next chapter of their young lives together; nursing school for Ryan and culinary school for Sarah. They want to create a bright future for their daughter.

My friends who are parents and grandparents kept asking if I was ready to live with a baby. I shrugged, “Is anyone really ready?” After all, I am not the parent, “only” the Great Aunt (aka Auntie Gaga). The look on their faces told me that they didn’t think I was.

I was warned about the crying during the night and the chaos and general “stuff” a tiny being generates.

Usually, my time with babies has been weekend visits with my nieces and nephews. I haven’t lived with one full-time before. It has been fun having a baby in the house and watching her grow and learn each day. She’s absolutely adorable, and smiles when I chatter away to her. A couple times, she even wanted me over her parents, and would fall asleep in my arms.

Each day at work, I would tell my co-workers how I was going home to play with a cute baby. When I had a bad day, having a cute baby at home was comforting, and the kids cooking dinner was a bonus.

As I felt her give into sleep, Bailey’s head would become heavier on my chest, and I would snuggle with her, drinking in that great baby smell and feeling her downy hair cling to my cheek. Each time, I always had a brief moment where I felt a kernel of sadness.

Having a baby in the house also reminded me of what I don’t have and what might have been. If I had fallen in love. If I had married. If I had a baby. If. If. If.

A month before the kids moved in, I turned 46 and was now closer to 50 than 40. A year earlier when I turned 45, I came to grip with the fact that having a baby wasn’t going to happen. I had to work through my grief about it, which was helped along with Melanie’s book Otherhood and Huffington Post essays. It was nice to have an ally articulate what I was feeling and processing.

I decided to embrace the moments I had with darling Bailey Quinn. I fearlessly focused on her, her smile, and her curious nature, and I marveled how quickly she learned things as she discovered the world.

If I felt the sadness, I let myself feel it, since it was part of my experience. Pushing it down would have hampered the gratitude I felt for Sarah and Ryan, for sharing Bailey with me for several months.

A month before the kids were set to move out, my friends began warning me once again. “Are you ready for the baby to leave? Are you going to be okay?” I nodded assuredly and would say, “Oh, yes, I’ll be fine.” The look on their faces told me that they didn’t think I would be.

I knew I would be okay. If I wasn’t, that would be okay too.

Photo: Shutterstock
Published: December 3, 2014