Barely a week has passed since Sara Leah has entered my life. It's hard to
believe how in such a short period of time my world could be so dramatically
altered.
It's amazing how this tiny package -- less than eight pounds of human being
-- has made her presence felt throughout my day and night. Every room in our
house has been transformed to accommodate her needs. The desk in the family room
has become a diaper changing station. Her crib, carriage, rocking seat and other
baby paraphernalia have become the dominant element in our home decor. Hour
after hour is taken up with holding her, soothing her, changing her and, of
course, the round-the-clock feedings.
The relationship is definitely a give-and-take one. I give her my all, and
she takes. She is still a few weeks shy from smiling, cooing back or even
gurgling happily. Most of the time her eyes are shut tight, and hold little
recognition when they do open. Basically she sleeps, eats, cries and requires
constant care.
But there is nothing that brings me greater contentment than clutching my
baby's five perfect tiny fingers, or stroking her cottony soft cheeks, her head
cradled against my shoulder.
Nor am I the only one in our family to feel this way. All of my children have commented, each in his own way, how much they love "their" baby. How cute, soft,
perfect "their" baby sister is -- despite the fact that she robs them of their
mother's time and attention.
Watching me rocking and singing to Sara Leah for the umpteenth time after a
particularly taxing day and grueling night, my husband commented, "It's
unbelievable what an outpouring of love a parent shows to her child. Look at
what you went through because of her -- pregnancy, labor and then her non-stop
crying as you tend to her with a sore and recovering body; yet you still hold
her with such adoration."
But this is the love and bond every parent feels towards her newborn. A love
simply because she is mine, despite her lack of giving anything back.
In fact, it's precisely because she can't give anything in return that the
connection is so strong.
As any parent, I love each of my children unconditionally. But as each of
them grows and our relationship deepens, the original, pure, unconditional love
is no longer as apparent. That bond becomes subsumed within and sidetracked by
all that my child gives back to me: the nachas, the adorable smiles and
hugs, the witty comments, the affection and the friendship. The more my children
grow and mature, the more I no longer only love them, but also come to
like them -- as the unique and special personality that each one becomes.
My newborn Sara Leah, however, with her lack of anything to give to me,
exemplifies the depth of our simple connection. A pure, intrinsic love deriving
wholly from the fact that she is mine.
There is only one thing I can think of that's akin to this love. It is a love
that mimics the deep and unconditional love between G-d and us.
It's like the deep bond with G-d that the Chassidic masters spoke of: the
bond elicited by the simple, spiritually "uncharismatic" individual, who unlike
the spiritually developed, righteous tzaddik, gives nothing in return.
Like a parent's love towards her newborn, this strong outpouring of love from
G-d to all of us is not due to our merits, talents or strengths. It's not
because of our spiritual stamina, positive qualities or because of any "nachas"
we may give Him.
It is simply and only because we are His.
