My newborn smiles. He smiles often - sleeping, awake, staring at the ceiling, when glimpsing my face.
Um, I don't think that's all gas, do you?
Aren't newborns also capable of "an intentional gesture of warmth meant just for you"? In the womb too, doesn't he dream with that already complex brain and doesn't he smile about his dreams? He often feels what I feel. Perhaps my happiness makes him happy. Perhaps he sees angels.
Eyes aglow, lips parting dimpled cheeks, arms and legs pulsing - he smiles, his whole body smiles. Time stops. I dare not pull away to fetch the camera. I soak up every sunbeam.
Do I need permission from a pediatrician to count a smile?
Don't just anything that smile. Enjoy it.
What was it like when God molded soil into a person and puffed breath into new lungs? Did the sent of God's breath linger in the air? Was Adam's fresh skin as soft as my baby's?
When Adam opened his eyes, he saw God smiling at him. Imagine how he smiled back.
I hear echoes of Darwinian naivety that scoffs at the spiritual dimension of life. When we dismiss what we do not understand, we may miss the opportunity to marvel at the mysterious.
Every time a mama delivers the gift of life, God comes down and puffs the miracle of first breath to expand new lungs. Is it any surprise then when this heaven sent life kissed by God's own mouth smiles?
We've witnessed it haven't we - the reverent hush haloed around one freshly arrived. My babies might have been squished and slimy like squids, and yet each boy glowed with a beauty makeup can't highlight. I sniff and sniff the top of his head like I'm remembering a wistful perfume.
Enjoy this broadcast from Focus: Celebrating the Wonder of Pregnancy from Conception to Birth.
Or watch this brief glimpse into the sacred intimacy of a womb: The Wonder Within You.