A Royal Birth

Am I the only one who cried when ridiculously beautiful Kate walked out of the hospital doors holding her precious baby yesterday?

I promise I was crying over how sweet the moment was, not because I was comparing Kate's hot mama self to my own waddling departure from the maternity ward wearing a mattress-sized pad inside hospital-issue undies and clutching that weird pink sitz bath thing instead of a baby. Well, I sort of promise.

I wonder if Kate and Will found the drive away from the hospital as terrifying as Tim and I did on the balmy March day when we brought Jack home. The sun shone so brightly. The world seemed too big and brilliant and scary for such a tiny baby. How could the hospital have let us leave with him? It seemed astounding, really.

But we found our parenting legs. We marveled in his beauty. We made mistakes. We learned how to parent not just A child, but THIS child. And it was hard, and good, and blessed.

I wonder if Will and Kate will argue when they feel frustrated and don't know how to best soothe their baby. Will they cry when they clip his fingernails and get a little skin? Will the first few baths feel more terrifying than flying a military chopper or walking down the aisle of Westminster Abbey in front of millions of people? Will they turn to baby books, God, and friends when they just don't know what to do?

That sweet nameless royal baby has everything going for him: money, privilege, and resources.
Those things will make his life easier in many ways and most likely harder in some ways.

But the most important thing he has is LOVE. So beautiful. I think that's why I was crying.