By Erin Loechner, Disney Baby
I've always listened at a distance to mothers sharing their birthstories - tales of joy and triumph and tears - explaining thatbeautiful, weighty feeling of a baby being laid on their chest, freshlyswaddled and newly birthed.
And as emotional as that moment was for me, it pales in comparison toa milestone I hold far more dear: the first time my daughter hugged me.
It had been a frenzied morning, one of fussiness and boredom andgeneral discontent, for both mama and baby. The weather was warm andsticky as we ventured outside for a breath of fresh air, willing achange of scenery to redeem our harried day.
I scooped Bee up to sit on my lap as we settled into a park benchnearby our home when she'd noticed a string on my dress. Playfullytugging and pulling at the thread, she giggled innocently, lost in auniverse different than my own.
And then, the hug. She lunged upward with both arms, interlocking herhands behind my neck as if we were crossing a river together, one withrushing water beneath and a strong instinct for survival.
It was brief and wordless, but I immediately glanced around,wondering if anyone else had shared our special milestone. Had someonewitnessed this beautifully ordinary moment that delivered so much weightand yet - so little meaning?
There were children swinging, balls launching, feet stomping, motherschatting - all immersed in their worlds, spinning as they should,propelling the moment to pass as quickly as it had arrived.
And it was nothing, but it was everything. It was a connection, agesture - a bond we'll share time and time again as we navigate lifetogether, one mother and one daughter.
There will be more hugs - some of obligation, others of necessity.Hugs of protection and anguish, empathy and celebration. But this hug -on this day - was the first. The only.