A disruptive force blew into our lives this summer and shattered our family routine.

Mealtimes were whenever. Exercise regimens went out the window. The yard was overgrown, the laundry piled up.  Neighbors heard screaming and crying at all hours of the day and night.

And there was that joie de vivre that you can only get with a newborn in the house.

Let me explain: In March we decided to volunteer with the Angels Foster Family Network, a San Diego-based agency that matches foster babies with caregivers. My sister-in-law and her husband had blazed the trail, and like them, as I somewhat famously declared at the orientation meeting, we were signing up to provide respite care, giving the real foster parents a short break when they needed it.

At least, that was the plan.

And according to plan, in April and May we provided short breaks for a couple of foster families. Then in early June we learned that a newborn (to protect the extremely innocent, let’s call him Baby M) was going to need care for a few days, possibly longer, due to extenuating circumstances with his initial foster family.

We were excited about having a tiny baby in the house – and tiny he was. Baby M was under two weeks old and about seven pounds on the day we met him. At that weight and age, a baby must feed every few hours, and they’re not shy about letting you know when they’re hungry. Oh, and their little digestion systems don’t work perfectly yet, and they let you know that too.

They communicate these things the only way they know how – in full-throated screams at the top of their lungs. Imagine having a clock radio set to a thrash-metal station, going off randomly, at full blast, around the clock. Being parents, we knew this about babies. Which is why I had presented us as members of Team Respite.

Well, for various reasons, our few days stretched into about seven weeks.  Now, as any human with a heart will tell you, it doesn’t take long to bond with an infant. Within a few days, you’re smitten. Despite the sleep deprivation.

While Tracy and I had no genetic dog in this hunt, so to speak, our parental instincts flipped on fully. Which is to say that, when you pay rapt attention to a baby (something we are all hard-wired to do), you find that it’s only natural to go all in. To commit yourself completely. And once that happens, you’re on your way:

• You realize that two mostly mature adults working together can be a formidable force, as you high-five while passing in the hallway at 3 a.m.
• All of your personal effects begin to smell like baby. Even when you’re at the office.
• You look at a dinner roll and it reminds you of a tiny foot.
• The first smile just about knocks you off your feet.

The real point: Making this sort of all-in commitment, even for a limited engagement, has tremendous rewards – for you as well as for the person you are helping. And actually, the universe delivers this kind of opportunity all the time.  Starting from a posture of gratitude for the advantages and capabilities you have, you don’t have to look hard for something that’s broken. And that you, with your unique gifts, can help fix.

The Angels Foster Family Network is just one (highly recommended) agency that facilitates some of the fixing that needs to happen. Every day, you have the opportunity to do something. It might be visiting the elderly, reading aloud to those who can’t, or donating a few hours or your time to a cause you like.

Seriously, just do it, and see what happens.

Having done our part in this case, we handed Baby M off to another Angels Network family the other day. Saying goodbye to him was more difficult than we anticipated.

When you invest yourself in a baby, even one who is not your offspring, there’s really no faking it. We came when he cried. We fed him, held, rocked and sang to him. We tried to give him some measure of the dignity, love and affection that every newborn person deserves.

So Baby M is on his way now. We’re sleeping through the night again, working out, pulling weeds from the garden, getting back into the rhythm of our lives — and still thinking about him all the time.

The crib we began to think of as ‘his’ is empty.

Ready, soon, for the next little person who needs it.