If celebrating the birth of my children has been the most wonderful part of my life - and it has - then celebrating the birth of a dear friend's child is a close second.
Yesterday Larry and I were visited by our dear friends and their beautiful nine week old daughter. The mother of this little angel has been one of my best pals for years; I met Cece when Alex was about a year old. Cece has always doted on Alex, and Alex has always adored her. When Cece and Scott got married, Alex was the flower girl in their wedding. Just watching Scott and Cece interact with Alex and our other children, I knew they'd be great parents.
When Cece announced her pregnancy last year, we hoped for a little girl, although she and Scott would have been thrilled regardless. Even before he knew the gender, Scott proudly displayed the first ultrasound photos of the unborn baby they'd nicknamed "Bean."
I was one of the first people they called afer the baby was born. I knew Isabelle would be beautiful, and she was. When I held her, I realized that I'd called it correctly after Lucas' birth when I'd said that five was enough for me; if this perfect baby didn't make me want Number Six, nothing would. (Of course, this was fine with Lucas, who loves babies but has made it clear that in our family he is committed to holding that position. )
Yesterday I was honored to shoot pictures of Baby Isabelle. I got some nice ones of her with her beaming parents, but my favorites were the one I shot of Scott and Cece's firstborn daughter and our youngest daughter - one a shot of their faces and the other of their holding hands.
"Our girls," I said. "I'm taking pictures of our girls. Can you believe it?" It made me so happy I almost wanted to cry.
There's so much to be cynical about in today's world. Yesterday reminded me that there's also so much to celebrate.