“She touched the healthy folds of skin around the baby’s neck, wrists, and thighs, the dark lines crying for life made in his forehead, and thought how people start with wrinkles and end with wrinkles, grow into their skin and then live to grow out of it again.”
″‘For that week, she didn’t let me out of her arms.’
‘Of course not, why would she? You were tiny and scrawny and fuzzy, and also the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, excepting my own.‘”
“And then one day, after the longest (and somehow, shortest) nine months of your life you get to take part in a miracle. It’s a blur of pain (which you promptly forget) and joy (which you remember forever). And then, suddenly, you’re cradling a tiny bundle in your arms.”
“I looked at him and thought about having to go through it all over again. The kicking and the screaming and the messes and more – much more. I felt so angry that I kicked the wall.”
“There was his snug little bed with a new baby in it. Small Bear had outgrown his snug little bed just in time for his new baby sister. And now he was a big brother!”
He felt himself exalted to unattainable heights, from which he studiously lowered himself so as not to wound the people he was talking to. He talked, and was all the time thinking of his wife, of her condition now, of his son, in whose existence he tried to school himself into believing. The whole world of woman, which had taken for him since his marriage a new value he had never suspected before, was now so exalted that he could not take it in in his imagination.