There is on­ly the fain­test sound of bre­at­hing in the si­lent room. I still feel a bit da­zed: is this tiny cre­a­tu­re re­al­ly ours?

Our third child was born in­to this big world. Each birth is a mi­rac­le of God’s cre­a­ti­on. I am mo­ved to te­ars ad­mi­ring the per­fec­ti­on of this tiny hu­man being cre­a­ted by God.

Eve­ryt­hing is there: the re­gu­lar rows of small fin­gers and toes, each wisp of hair and the cute lit­t­le nose. He was born in­to an unk­nown world, but he snug­g­les close to me qui­te con­fi­dent­ly and be­gins to suck­le.

It is lo­ve­ly to spend some time with my hus­band get­ting to know this lit­t­le one. We can touch the vel­ve­ty skin of his cheek and feel his tiny fin­gers grasp ours. The baby opens his ey­es a lit­t­le, as if to see what is going on around him.

When my hus­band le­a­ves to go home to our ot­her child­ren and I re­main alo­ne with the baby, I be­gin to feel lo­ne­so­me for all of them right away. I have al­wa­ys been one to en­joy the pre­sen­ce of my dear ones. It is good I have the baby to make me feel bet­ter.

Wai­ting for his birth, I had been sure I would en­joy the pe­a­ce and qui­et of the hos­pi­tal. I had thought I could even knit or do cros­s­words and have naps with the baby.

But now I find that my thoughts are there with my fa­mi­ly. I won­der what my life will be like with three small child­ren. I have te­ars in my ey­es again.

The baby be­gins to move, and I pick him up. I let the te­ars run down my cheeks. My he­art is so full of both love and lo­ne­so­me­ness. This won­der­ful life.

Text: Miia Ki­vi­o­ja

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

You will find the ori­gi­nal blog post here.