What If?

A friend recently asked what I thought life would be like if I hadn’t been knocked up that fateful day in February. This produced a mental thought parade with the ‘involuntarily sacrificial turn my life has taken’ as the main float. Poopy, whiny babies. Was this what I always wanted? Well, let’s just say that circa 2008, if I had serendipitously encountered a feral puppy and a feral baby human on the side of the street, it would have only been the fear of social damnation that would have ultimately persuaded me to choose the baby kid. Yes, I would have chosen to pet a puppy over holding a baby any day; to put a plastic-grocery-bag-encased hand on a warm pile of dog poop over changing a baby diaper; to get an indiscriminately loving lap from a hound over a slobbery smooch from a toddler.

So what if Harper had never been born? Would my life be more as I had imagined it, full of exotic travels, carefree days basking on the beach and sleepy Saturdays in bed watching movie after movie with my sweet babe Rivs? Imagine…instead of spending $100 on formula, I waltz into Forever 21 and pick out a sweet new outfit that would never end up smelling like stale milk or be permanently tinged sweet potato orange. And picture this: its midnight. Rivers and I are watching Season 3 of Arrested Development. The show ends. Rivers gently asks whether I want to watch another episode, to which I swiftly reply “why yes, of course! After all, what have we got to do tomorrow but sleep in till 10, eat banana pancakes and inconspicuously laugh at all the silly couples who have babies?” Wouldn’t it be more enjoyable, relaxing, exciting if life were still that way?

What if I had never seen Harper’s old-man newborn face, or heard her soft, pleading cry when all she wanted was to return to her home in my belly. What if I had never felt her soft, wrinkled hands gently prod my face as I fed her, or seen her toothless grin when she still fit in the crook of my neck? Would I be better off if I had never heard her gleeful giggle, or laughed when she thought the electrical outlets were tiny faces? What if I had never watched her crawl for the first time, give wet kisses to her reflection in the mirror, or wave goodbye long after a person has left her sight? Picture this: it’s 5 am. Rivers and I are asleep in bed. Harper starts to cry. I slowly get out of bed to tend to my child and find a baby girl standing in her crib, smiling ear to ear because her mommy just came to her rescue. I pick her up. She wraps her little arms around my neck and nuzzles her face into my neck. Tired, weary and not quite ready to start the day just yet, but I am filled with the love that consumes. And life is just as it should be: imperfectly perfect.