Blur Part 2: In Focus

As soon as I hit "publish" on yesterday's post, I glanced and found two sleeping babies on my bed.  They were kicking and cooing as I wrote yesterday, but my mind wandered long enough that they must have tired waiting on me.  I laid down beside one of them, closed my eyes for what I thought would be a second or two, then opened them 1.5 hours later.  Times like those--when both babies are sleeping, Ethan is somewhere and somehow occupied, and I can just rest--times like those are heavenly.
A challenge with two babies (aka "twins") is finding the time to enjoy each one as individuals and enjoy the baby stage.  Last week, Oliver taught me a life lesson that it's not just about me enjoying him...
We (me, Anna and Oliver) were in the waiting room at the doctor's office.  My dad was in to see the doctor.  Anna was peacefully asleep in her carseat and Oliver was wide awake in my arms.  (Always thankful for one who sleeps while the other is awake when we are out and about.)
I had watched a tall, slim elderly woman make her way to the receptionist's desk, only to find out that the doctor's office had somehow mis-scheduled her appointment.  Not a problem, though, as the receptionist promised to find a way to get her to see the doctor in the next few hours.
It was not a problem for her, as she explained that she is 91, lives alone, no one is expecting her, she no longer has to make dinner, she had no where to be and nothing really to get done that day.  For 91, she looked remarkably well, although she was very thin and quite frail.  She had these amazingly long, bony fingers, perhaps a piano player in her prime.
We sat across the sofas from one another and she asked me about the twins.  I was tired and gave half-hearted answers until something tugged on my heart and told me to sit-up and pay attention to the miracle of life.  I listened to her talk and then said, "Would you like to hold him?"
As the words came out of my mouth, I questioned myself knowing that Oliver is a solid guy and tends to throw himself backwards when someone is holding him.  He is not one who likes to be held at this stage anyway...he really wants to be on the ground squirming these days.
I sat beside her and put Oliver facing her chest, with his head resting on her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him so tight.  There would be no way she could pick him up or put him down, she was way too frail for that action.  But she could wrap her arms around him.
And to my surprise, he completely and totally relaxed in her arms and laid his head on her shoulder.  He was completely and totally present in the moment.
She quickly teared up as she rested the side of her cheek on his head and ran her fingers across his shoulders and back.  She then told me that her only son died about 5 years ago and no matter how old she was or how old he was, a mother's heart breaks when her child dies.  As she held Oliver, she spoke of what it felt like to hold her son as a little baby.
She savored that moment of holding a baby on her chest.  I savored the moment of watching Oliver fulfill something he was destined to do here on this earth.  The receptionist savored the moment and mouthed, "What a gift you have given her."
What a gift Oliver -- and Anna -- has given all of us.  And Ethan too.