Best 150 quotes in «babies quotes» category

On Sundays, Presbyterians were not allowed to eat hot food or read the funny papers or travel the shortest journey; parents believed in Hell and believed tiny babies could go there. Baptists were not supposed to know, up until their dying day, how to play cards or dance. And so on.

Outside of having kids, getting tattooed is one of the worst mistakes a person can make, yet somehow (much like having kids) millions of people do it every year.

Pamela produced placid babies. "They don't tend to turn feral until they're two," she said.

Parents: Do you have babies and toddlers who are afflicted by terminal illness, rare and incurable diseases? When all is not well for them, read to them this beautiful, enjoyable and lively healing book breathed by the Holy Spirit of a Sovereign God for your little ones' healing: Dear Baby Be Healed From Terminal Illness: Cutting Through soul and spirit by Stellah Mupanduki ...You will forget that there is illness in your household because you will encounter the healing presence of the Holy Spirit touching you and your little one with sound healing. Smile...cheer up, all will be well for you.

Parents expect only two things from their children, obedience in their childhood and respect in their adulthood.

Philip looked incredulously at the tiny bundle in Johnny’s arms. He reached out a hand tentatively, and lifted a corner of the blanket. He saw a wrinkled pink face, an open toothless mouth and a little bald head—a miniature of an aging monk.

People talk to pets and babies to stop themselves going mad.

She felt the urge to tell him more, to explain about the abortions she had done after the war, and that she hadn’t realised until later, much later, that she had racked up a debt she was still struggling to repay. How could he know – he was just a soldier, he had killed as a matter of principle, but the war babies, the children of rape, had been left to junior doctors, the volunteers in ragged tents on the outskirts of town.

She didn’t think of the debt she was repaying, that each of the babies she brought into the world might someday be counted against the babies that had died, by her hand, after the war.

She gave me money to buy condoms, and instead I bought a book of baby names. That’s life. That’s love. That’s fiscally irresponsible.

She was glad that she had not let on to Lonzo how she felt; a woman has business to be as strong as a man. No, a woman has to be stronger than a man. A man don't mind laying the ax between a calf's eyes; a woman does mind, and has to stand by and watch it done. A man fathers a little un, but a woman feels it shove up against her heart, and beat on her body, and drag on her with its weight. A woman has to be stronger than a man.

She saw night lights in the rooms of the babies who dreamed soft seersucker dreams, drugged happy with the heat, their pink baby bodies curled against worn out cotton, not fearing Hitler yet, their strong, tiny hearts beating in unison with the trees and the creeks and the bayou

She steeled her spine. “Like Boleyn to the chopping block.” Anna smirked. “Queen of England, are we?” Mara shrugged. “Something to aspire to.

She is doing that on purpose, he thought as he tried to force his own smile away from his wide, damp jaws. She is being adorable as some sort of hideous ruse, to spite me. What a mean baby! ... Do not fall in love with that baby...

She is drawn to the river, and all its hideous, dead-eyed treasures: rot-bloated cats, and cold-meat corpses of unwanted infants, eels plucking at their tender fingers and toes.

She raised her hand, bony fingers spread. “Don’t worry. She is supposed to cry. Her life will never be the same. You can’t give her everything.” I realized what Rajima meant. Until that moment, I had been almost exclusively providing everything Krishna could want or need. I was her sole succor and haven. But her needs were changing. She would now need sustenance from the earth, from Mother Nature, from the world, or at least Whole Foods. She would need more than what I could give her from my own body. We

Shrieking Brooke’s name as loudly as I could, out in the corridor, I brought her running quickly to my room. ‘What’s happened, what’s wrong?’ she immediately cried concerned, legging it up the stairs two at a time. She appeared breathless outside the kitchen door. Brian appeared sleepily at his door too, awoken by the noise, and watched us. ‘She’s moving,’ I cried. ‘What? Flutters like before?’ ‘No more, here feel.’ I grabbed her hand and pushed it down onto my exposed belly. Brian averted his eyes as I stood, belly out and top up over my bra, in the middle of the corridor. ‘I can’t push you that hard,’ she exclaimed, pulling back her fingers surprised. ‘It will hurt you, or her, I can’t do that.’ ‘Yes, you can,’ I insisted. ‘You won’t hurt us.’ I pulled her hand back and pushed her long fingers into my belly and we stood waiting, hardly daring to breathe. You kicked again, hard into my side, under Brooke’s long pink fingernails. Brooke jumped away from me in shock and then burst out laughing. She clapped her hands together delighted. ‘Well?’ I asked her. ‘She kicked me,’ Brooke shrieked still jumping up and down clapping. ‘She kicked me. That was amazing, let me do it again.’ She came back over towards me slowly. Cautiously she pushed her fingers into the same spot on my side. We waited again in silence and I saw her face slightly drop as the seconds ticked by. ‘Ah it works,’ she yelled, as again she jumped back shocked as the tiny little feet thudded from my insides at her hand. ‘I love it. Do it again.’ I laughed and then Brian stepped forward. ‘Can I have a go?’ he asked quietly, fiddling with his hands and stepping out of his room towards us. ‘Of course you can, come here.’ And that is how we spent the next few minutes out in the corridor by the kitchen, shrieking, whooping, and jumping around. If anyone had been in the house, I know they would probably have thought we were all mad. Mad, no. Thrilled and excited, most definitely. Baby girl, you did that to us. Thank you.

Smile at the Fates and you will feel less their Slave.

Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus For a rattle bag of broken Bach records Tack Della Francesca all over its crib Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon

So he thinks he has a baby and everything falls into place? What gets me is, people have babies and they're thinking what the baby will do for them. It's sick.

Some parents sometimes use junk food as a babysitter.

Sometime it seems like the real miracle of life if that a man and woman were able to get along well enough to make a baby in the first place.

So, you’re handed a baby and a new name (Daddy) and you now have to choose to accept the challenge. Here’s the thing. I don’t believe that rejecting it’s an option. I mean, people DO reject it. But you shouldn’t. You choose then and there to be a father. And you make that choice, day in and day out to make sure their needs are met, that the example is set for them, that they are loved, cherished, corrected, and challenged. You have to choose it.

Sylvia’s first impression of Allegra was that no one had ever before had such a beautiful baby. Jocelyn’s first impression of Grigg was that he had nice eyelashes and a funny name, and didn’t interest her in the slightest. Prudie’s first impression of Bernadette was that she was startling to look at and dull if you listened, which you hardly ever had to do. Bernadette’s first impression of Prudie was that, in all her long years, she had rarely seen such a frightened young woman. Grigg’s first impression of Jocelyn was that she appeared to think sharing an elevator with him for a few floors was some sort of punishment. Allegra’s first impression of Sylvia was blurred with her first impression of the larger world. For me? she’d asked herself back when she had no words and no way to even know she was asking. And then, when Sylvia, and then, when Daniel had first looked into her eyes — More for me?

The bawling of babies, always in a way Inappropriate - why should the love and innocent Greet existence with wails? - is proof that not all Is well. Dreams and deliveries never quite mesh.

The baby was almost certainly one year old. They knew this because of the red rosette pinned to her front, which read, 1! "Or rather," said Charles Maxim, "the child is either one year old or she has come first in a competition. I believe babies are rarely keen participants in competitive sport. Shall we therefore assume it is the former?

That baby has got to learn things including remaining erect & on deck & all, her study of herself must include no wings. She's sturdy, beautiful, & she will do, unless the universal homage turns her head as it might well do mine, hypnotized by the Little Baby...

The love between friends could create life.

The children we bring into the world are small replicas of ourselves and our husbands; the pride and joy of grandfathers and grandmothers. We dream of being mothers, and for most of us that dreams are realised naturally. For this is the Miracle of Life.

The first music I ever heard was only one hundred and sixty days after I was conceived. Da dum Da dum Da dum Have you ever heard the sound a blessing makes? This is it. The first thing I ever saw was only one hundred and eighty days after I was conceived. It was a bright light soft like clouds warm like candles. Have you ever seen the colour of a blessing? This is it. The first time I ever suffered was in the three thousand and sixty seconds after I was born. I listened for her heartbeat. I searched for her light. I cried for the first time until she was born. Have you ever known a blessing? A twin is it.

The memories seem to come in layers. For example, the first memory might be of incest; then they remember robes and candles; next they realize that their father or mother or both were present when they were being abused. Another layer will be the memory of seeing other people hurt and even killed. Then they remember having seen babies killed. Another layer is realizing that they participated in the sacrifices. One of the most painful memories may be that they even sacrificed their own baby. With each layer of memory comes another set of problems with which they must deal. — Glenn L. Pace; "Ritualistic Child Abuse," memo

The natural cure for sterility is a natural diet along with a home toxin detox.

There is nothing glorious about creating life out of passionate penetration. Even the animals can do that. The real glory comes when the life you create becomes the help in the lives of countless other humans.

There is a world of difference between the experience of 'care' – the wiping of a bottom, the bathing of a body: basic biological obligations – and the intimacy that makes us want to live.

There is only one thing worse than a little baby who won't stop crying: it is a big baby who won't stop whining about it

Understanding why so many western women are giving birth to unnaturally large babies that either damage the birth canal or will not fit down it is one of the greatest challenges to modern medicine.

Throughout history, the most brutal cultures have always been distinguished by maternal-infant separation.

The skills developed in the body by taking care of a baby are a gift, a way of being in the world, and a way of connecting with all the women—and some men—who have learned these skills before.

Um, Galen . . . This one is leaking."Styxx Galen laughed. Danae cried out in horror. " am so sorry, Highness! I--" "Bah," Galen scoffed, interrupting her. "Not the worst that boy's had on him, is it, young prince?" "Definitely not. But . . ." He passed Elpis back to Galen. "I fear I have no experience with this realm of domesticity. I've never even seen a pana, never mind tried to apply one to such a small person.

We all started off this way - small little bundles of joy. Me, Aires, Noah, Lila, Isaiah and even Beth. At some point, someone held us and loved us, but somewhere along the way, it all got screwed up.

Well, dearest, what would you tell a farmer who had an over-abundant harvest? To plant less, of course!"... "I am not complaining about the frequency of the planting," she said. "I’d just rather not reap a crop every year.

We've hired the calmest babies in the world to play the hysterical Thomas. One did finally start to cry but stopped every time Chris [Newman (assistant director)] yelled 'Action'. ... Babies smiled all afternoon. Buddhist babies. They didn't cry once. We, however, were all in tears by 5 p.m.

We're looking at the coming of spring like we look at the coming of babies we never considered aborting; Hopeful.

We're brainwashed with garbage idioms like "Big girls don't cry". Guys who "cry like a girl" are told to "man up". Or "she's crying like a baby", as if only babies cry, which makes no sense to me, given babies have the fewest problems out of all of us. They don't have mortgages or jury duty, and they get the fun end of the whole birthing situation. The mother is the one who is pushing and bleeding and tearing, and the baby basically just gets to jet down a water slide. I think the whole "crying like a baby" idiom should be reversed: what we should say about babies is "Jesus, that baby is crying like a grown-up!

We should understand the mother and child as a mutually responsive dyad. They are a symbiotic unit that make each other healthier and happier in mutual responsiveness. This expands to other caregivers too. -Darcia Narvaez

When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...

When feeding your children, do you want to fill their tummies? Or nourish their bodies?

When I scanned the room, I saw five or six swaddled newborns and one miniature 1920s actress. Bibi had round eyes the size of saucers, chalky white skin, and dainty fingers that seemed already capable of needlepoint.

When I see an evil person, I cannot believe that once he was an innocent and sweet baby.

When the baby cries, she could be hungry or thirsty or angry or cranky or sick or sleepy or paranoid or jealous or she had planned something but it went horribly awry. So you'll need to take care of that, when it happens.