Baby Present

babySo here I am…a man who never had younger siblings, a man without a child, a man who’s never changed a diaper and gets paranoid around babies…and I’m having lunch with a dear friend and meeting her five-month old son.  I said the standard things — “he’s so cute,” “what a good baby,” “are you getting any sleep?” — yet I felt my heart begin to open up to him.

As my friend and I discussed our lives over the past months beginning with the heavy adult stuff, mostly the changes, the difficulties, the newness, I kept being pulled in by the baby.  I turned back to my friend and shared about my Mom’s passing, felt heartfelt, tearful, then he would catch my eye, and I’d suddenly communicate with him in a silly voice with a rubbery facial expression somewhat surprising myself.  His whole face beamed gleefully, his delight just spilling over.  There was absolutely no way my mood could stay down for long because he kept pulling me into the magic moment alive in the present.

The world was brand new to him – the noise made when swirling a straw in a glass of water and crushed ice; the taste of the ear of the teddy bear I’d brought him, one that fit so perfectly into his teeny mouth; his soulful chocolate-colored eyes exploring my face as I explored his.

All this felt strangely familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it.  Then it hit me the next day when I was leading a writing seminar and I spoke of that moment when a writer puts her work out to a friend, a writing group or the whole wide world.  It’s like putting their infant on the table for discussion, scrutiny, perhaps ridicule.  And like a good parent, she wonders if it will be healthy.  Will it be safe?

I’ve had the honor of cradling and nurturing many writers’ cherished works, their babies, in my hands, transferring new ideas and skills as I placed the baby back into the loving arms of their birth parent.  I’ve midwifed many into creation, encouraging the writer to breathe into the process, then at the ideal moment to push.  And I’ve received the gift of witnessing as they send their completed work, grown but still their child, out into the world.  I assured them it was time for the offspring to live its own life before gently nurturing that writer back to the blank page to coax another idea into being.

As I ate and my friend fed the baby boy a bottle, I dreamed he will have a long life of interweaving plots, solid growth through manageable conflict and lessons bringing resolution while existing in safe settings and meeting vibrant characters along the way.

I am eager to be a part of this.  And the next time I see him, just like I do with my writing, I will get over my inexperience, try something brand new, and move beyond simply stroking his amazing hair while he lies in the baby seat.  I will get my hands on him and hold him, and encourage his story…and mine.

Affirm:  I see the world anew and move beyond fear into the innocent possibility of the moment.  I try something fresh.  I encourage my growth, my own story, by writing. 


  1. Louisa Merchant on January 31, 2013 at 8:07 PM

    I love the birthing and parenting imagery for writing. That will help me from what I sometimes do with my own writing, rip it up, tell it it will never measure up, say I’ve already seen a thousand like you, tell it it is too boring…all things I would never do to my baby. Thanks for the helpful metaphor and the always outstanding inspiration.

  2. Wayne on January 31, 2013 at 8:15 PM

    Thanks, Louisa, for your honest response. I totally relate to the ‘conversation’ between self and writing. Awareness is the first step in moving toward a positive experience and enriched creative expression. I appreciate you bringing up more for me to examine. A lovely gift!

  3. Wayne on February 1, 2013 at 1:37 AM

    Your words do my heart good! Much gratitude…!

  4. Valerie Hudgins on February 1, 2013 at 12:46 AM

    You brought a smile of understanding to my lips and tears to my eyes… AGAIN! Shared on Twitter. Be Well, Dear!

  5. Darden Bynum on February 1, 2013 at 3:41 PM

    Wayne, One of Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s ( signature practices is a meditation while holding the hand of a child. Like what you’ve written about, there’s something about the presence and innocence of such an exchange that can transform.

  6. Wayne on February 1, 2013 at 3:49 PM

    Actually, I didn’t get as far as holding his hand; well, he was playing with the teddy bear and holding a bottle! For me, it’s that desire to hold him, all of him, in my arms next to my heart. That reminded me of my writing practice — living and breathing connection.
    Thanks for your words!

  7. Peggie Tucker on February 1, 2013 at 5:21 PM

    Wayne,Always so happy to hear from you. I relate to the metaphor of writing being like the experience of getting to know a baby or at least something we are inexperienced in doing. I used to feel comfortable with babies but at my age my confidence in knowing what to do has faded away. I fear if I don’t get back into writing, my confidence in expressing through through words will do the same – fade. As you say, writing is incredibly personal and we want to love it and keep it close to our hearts while at the same time daring to share our passion with others. My passion presently is dancing! It is amazing, however, how often I think of writing late at night just as I try to fall asleep. Much love as you continue to heal. I miss you, Peggie

  8. Wayne on February 1, 2013 at 5:33 PM

    I’m glad you are dancing; what fun! I’m also glad, perhaps a little more so, that you have written a comment here. Your honest heart in the voice of your words always comes through beautifully. I miss you, too, Peggie. And I miss your writing. Thanks for sharing!

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