114/365 History of Baptism

Sophia's baptism is scheduled for September 16. I'm so not a part of the parish anymore. But there's something about me that made me dig in my heels and not conveniently disappear. Her godparents can't make it and my house is too much chaos to think about hosting a party. I let my parents do that and I send out little notes to lots of folks. Come and see.

There's a baptismal gown, almost see-through at this point, having seen many many babies baptized in Mike's family. There are no buttons. Instead, a tiny set of pins connected by a silver chain. Bows at the wrists. Later on when I put it on Leo I worry that it won't fit. It barely does. But Sophia fits in it fine.

But before we get her dressed, September 11, 2001 dawns and I'm on the phone with my brother watching CNN as the world trade center towers fall in on themselves. And I'm already post-partum and a mess. I've only fixed the thrush we had about two weeks before. I'm exhausted and she's not sleeping and my baby makes me sad and now this. Now this.

I call Fr. Bill to tell him maybe we shouldn't go ahead with the baptism, that maybe it wasn't the best thing. I'm not in my right mind and he's patient with me for the first time in 4 months.

"It is always a good time for a baptism."

And it is. Sophia cries and smells like chrism oil for a week and people pass her around at the party afterward and I've done it. I've had a baby and baptized her and we're all still here and it's ok.