The Sweetest of All

Yesterday was a sad day.  Of the ten (10) babies who hatched from the incubator process, there were 24 who did not make it.  We finally emptied our incubator due to the rotting eggs.  There were twenty four fertilized eggs that did not make it to full growth.  The noxious gases escaping from the rotting eggs have a negative effect on the growing babies.  Unfortunately, two of those babies id not make it very long.  One died during the hatching process and the other died within 48 hours of birth.    The rotten eggs were placed in a hole in the ground.  We cracked the eggs and some had partial baby chick bodies that had stopped growing during the incubation process and some that were fertilized but never grew.

Brett thought we needed to hatch more babies.  No thanks.  I think eight live and frisky babies are enough for me.  I stop to think what life would be like with eight children.  Nope, not for me.  Although, I think about the incubation process as similar to being a surrogate.  I can't imagine giving my babies away and they are first, chickens and second, chickens.  I realize when a surrogate carries someone else's child, they are carrying nothing of their own.  I know they are paid to do it and they are required to give the baby to their biological parents at birth.  Nope, not for me.  Any woman who is able to help another family have a baby by being a surrogate is an absolute angel!!

Today, I was holding my friend's grand baby in my arms with his perfect round head, white blond hair, and blue eyes.  I even told his mother that within a month he would no longer miss her.  I'm fairly certain that isn't the nicest thing to say to a first time mom, although true.  I close my eyes and think about all the precious children with their perfect round heads and beautiful bright eyes living in orphanages around the world.  There was no one there to take them home.  There are so many stories for why these children are not in a home.  Maybe they should be in my home or your home.  I can smell that sweet smell of baby coming from their soft baby skin and the soft pinch you feel when they first learn to use their thumb and forefinger.  The smiles that brighten the darkest rooms and the tears they cry when they just want to see your face.   

My children are not babies anymore and the beauty they add to my life even when I was the only one who could soothe them, will long be remembered.  The smell of baby never gets old and babies never get un-perfect.  They are a miracle and a gift.  I wonder if Brett will let me rock him to sleep tonight.  Yeah, probably not.