A Too Young Mother

I watched Ella with her baby and couldn't stop thinking that she was a baby herself. Far too young to have her own child. Even at such a young age, Ella was incredibly nurturing. She held her baby close to her, offering her a bottle while whispering calming things. When Ella finished feeding her, she gave her baby a little kiss then lift her up to burp her. She pat her back generally, rocking back and forth on her chair. I kept quiet, providing supportive smiles when Ella looked in my direction, but otherwise just watching her, admiring what a great mother she would become as she grew.

A while later, I heard Ella crying. I peeked around the corner and saw her trying to change her baby powder smelling baby. She had the diaper off. She was holding one of her little girl's legs in the air, but couldn't get the diaper under her without it crumpling. Each failed try made her that much more frustrated. "It's hard being a mom." I said as I finished walking into her room.

She turned and looked at me, tears filling her eyes. "Mommy, can you help me please." I remembered how many times I wanted ask for help as a new mother, how difficult it was to ask for help. More than anything I had seen, I was impressed by this. She was typically fiercely independent. This was a very different side of her.

"Sure sweetheart." I showed her how to do it, talked to her what it was like to change her diapers when she still wore them. Once the diaper was changed, Ella picked her baby up and dropped her in the crib. Then she turned and walked away. I smiled again. One day, when she grew up, she would make a wonderfully loving mother. For now, I would enjoy her two year old pretend mommy play and realize that even if she couldn't say it, she knew I love her. It was evident in the care of her baby doll.