Waiting for Riley

I am often astounded at the passage of time. I’m not sure how the very same two years can at some times feel as if so much has happened, and in other moments, as if two years ago was only yesterday.




Two years ago, Riley was born. Riley is my niece, the daughter of my best friend Holly. Holly and I have been friends for over 20 years. Regardless of where we’ve lived and what we’ve had going on, there has never been a time that we haven’t talked almost every day. She is my sounding board, my biggest cheerleader, my touchstone. She knows me better than anyone, can talk me out of being crazy without pissing me off, and makes me laugh harder than anybody. She is one of my favorite people, and I am grateful for having her. I know that I’m lucky.

I was waiting for her to have a child for a long time. I had my children years ago, and seeing her with my children made me yearn to have that relationship with her kids. In 1999, when my daughters were only 2 ½ years old, and 9 months, we took a trip out to California and visited “Auntie Holly.” She had met the girls, but these few days was going to be the longest amount of time that she’d spent with my kids. We ran around Los Angeles all day, and were figuring out in what order we’d make dinner, get everyone a bath and watch the kids. Georgia, two-and-a-half and strong willed, instantly voted for a bubble bath with Auntie Holly. Always a good sport, she agreed. I went into the bathroom to check on them and Georgia shouted me out of the bathroom from behind the mounds of bubbles, only their little faces showing with grins “GET OUT, MOM! This is me and Auntie Holly’s bath!” Auntie Holly laughed, and agreed, so I let them be. They came out clean and happy, and I handed baby Holly (just 9 months, and Auntie Holly’s namesake) off to her and went to take my shower.



Auntie Holly, then, was not the most domestic girl. She done some babysitting, but wasn’t terribly proficient with kids. She didn’t really cook. But when I came out of that shower, she was standing in her kitchen trying to make Mac and Cheese with her namesake comfortably on her hip like a monkey, and my two year old yammering at her in only her underwear from a chair she was standing on to supervise. I stood there in my towel watching Auntie Holly smile at them, and make dinner, the three of them so comfortable and happy. I could see that they loved each other now, these people that I loved so much separately, coming together on their own. I will never forget the sweetness of that moment. And in it, the wish for Holly’s children to come into the world, so that I could love them that way.



Riley was born two years ago today, December 18th, 2007. When I first saw her little face, not even cleaned off yet, I thought “Oh, there you are. Its you.” Not just because I’d been waiting for her, but as if I knew her, as if I recognized her somehow. The room was a flurry of activity, and after an hour, when everyone finally headed out to get a late lunch, Holly and I sat on her bed with this baby we’d both waited for.



“Can we unwrap her?” Holly asked me.



“Of course we can. She’s yours! Let’s check her out.”



So we did. We took off blankets and the funny Onesie’s the hospital puts on newborns. We counted toes and fingers, kissed her belly and her feet, looked into her eyes, talked about her hair and the birth and how well her husband Neal did. We watched her startle, listened to sneezes and smiled at yawns. We giggled and laughed and discovered this amazing little gift that had suddenly arrived after so much waiting.



I stayed a night in the hospital with Holly while Neal went home to take care of the dog and get the house ready. Holly was exhausted, but wanted the baby in the room, so I took her with me on the sleeping cot, and would give her to Holly when she needed to eat. We lay in our beds and talked like teenagers, like we always do, only now there was this whole other person with us.



Like most newborns, Riley had a strong startle reflex. Somehow, it got both Holly and I going, and we spent a good part of the night falling asleep and then startling as if we were going to fall out of bed. Over and over we all did this, until I finally said “Okay, this is ridiculous. The baby can’t help it, but we can. NO more. We need our sleep.”



We talked on and off through the night, during feedings and while we fell back asleep. I laid on the little cot, with tiny six-pound Riley curled up to my chest, staring at her face. I had nearly forgotten how easy it is to fall completely in love with someone that you just met. She stared up at me with these beautiful dark eyes and I sang to her softly, her tiny baby breath no more than a whisper. And I loved her more than I even thought I would.

I don’t know how two years have gone by. Two years since I first saw her face, and knew her already. Two years and my best friend has become this unbelievably capable, confident mother. She cooks well now, and handles the grossest parts of parenthood better than I do. She has grown leaps and bounds as a person from raising this baby into a child, from becoming a mother. I’ve never been more proud of her.

And Riley, she is talking and busy and amazing. She scoots through a doorway that Holly and I are blocking, and as she touches our legs to part the way for herself, she says “BEEP BEEP,” without so much as a giggle. Her mothers’ finely tuned twisted sense of humor is coming out already.



She climbs up on the couch with me, with her favorite blanket and a baby, settles onto my lap for a miraculous half an hour cuddle. I miss the times of walking the floor with her and holding her tiny body to my chest, but she’s so busy now. Still, there are moments when she wants Auntie Michelle, and I get sticky fingers grasping for me and wet kisses on my face and tight hugs where she squeezes so hard back. And with that comes the knowledge that she loves me, too.

Happy 2nd Birthday Riley. You were so totally worth the wait.