This is not Francesca, but will have to do for now…

Yesterday morning, the time seemed to drag until it was finally time for us to leave to see the new baby. The traffic was terrible, and we avoided a queue of cars on the A30, only to find another traffic jam on another route.

The sun was shining, and the countryside looked fresh and green after all the rain. I was in the back seat with all the baby presents, wondering what our new baby would look like. Would she look like her sister?

When we arrived, the front door was open. It seemed like any other visit, and it wasn’t until I walked into the living room that I realised the new baby wasn’t in either of her parent’s arms.

I looked around and finally found what I was looking for, peacefully sleeping on a baby bean bag. I don’t know why I was surprised by how small she was, but she seemed so tiny. Still curled up tight, her little fists clenched, she looked so peaceful. She stretched her legs as I watched, barely breathing, not wanting to disturb her. I expected her to open her eyes and was disappointed when she didn’t. Apparently, she even fed with her eyes closed, so maybe she wasn’t ready to see the world yet.

I didn’t think we would get to hold her, as she wasn’t awake, but she was soon being passed around like a parcel. It was like holding a doll, a perfectly beautiful baby doll. I touched her hand, and she grabbed it, her tiny fist stronger than I expected. I didn’t want to remove my finger and was secretly pleased that no one else could hold her.

I took that time to study her face and the soft down-like hair on her head. Sometimes, when I look at a baby, I get a sense of their future life, but the only thing I could feel was perfect newness.  

The baby’s name is Francesca, and she was a long time coming. Looking at her mother’s serene face, I knew it had been worth the wait…