To life

Recently one of my closest friends had a baby shower. All of her friends and family gathered together to join in the celebration of a true miracle.

Maybe it’s the time of year, what with the stores all filling up with mother and fathers day cards and gifts that the true meaning of being a parent gets overshadowed.

But not this day, and certainly not with this baby. Inside the pretty little restaurant, hundreds of blue balloons with silver ribbons fill the air. Mountains of baby presents wrapped in pretty paper are piled up behind the guest of honor’s seat.

An adorable little girl dressed in a frilly pink and white dress places my gift on the top of the huge pile.

I find my name card and make my way towards fountain of champagne punch just before settling in for a wonderful brunch. Sitting next to me is a woman in her 80s. Her silver white hair curls softly toward her shoulders. Her eyes have a twinkle from sampling a little too much punch. She giggles as she tells me how she used to have to boil those cloth diapers.

It has been a long time since my babies were born. A long time since I have felt the brush of baby lips on my face and an even longer time since I have thought about what a blessing being a parent really is.

But the blessing of this day was for the guest of honor at the party. She was told many years ago that she would never be able to have a child.

I remember how excited my friend was on the day that she was about to try a new procedure that, with the help of a surrogate, might be her last chance for a child.

I remember sadness on the night that this brave woman cried in pain when her abdomen had swollen to dangerous proportions. I stayed on the phone with her while understanding her determination to withstand the pain at all costs until she was sure enough time had passed before going to the emergency room.

I cried silently with her as each of the tiny embryos that her effort had produced passed on, until only one remained.

I held back my own tears when I reminded her on that last day, with that last baby, that sometimes all we have is hope, that sometimes a single hope is enough to make a miracle happen.

So today, two weeks from the due date of her baby boy, she is joined by her husband and is sitting next to a woman who was generous enough to carry this miracle of life for her.

I will always remember my dear friend’s smiling face, which was brighter than any star in the heavens, as she tore open the tons of brightly wrapped gifts.

As the silver-haired 80-year-old woman raised her glass of champagne for a final toast, we were all reminded of what the day was really about.

“Here’s to a miracle,” she said. “Here’s to life!”

- Diane Butler