You’d think I was the one waiting to give birth rather than my daughter, Laura. From my lofty perch, one generation removed from all the pending chaos, I feel a sage wonder and reverence for the journey mother and daughter are about to share. Afraid of nothing, both carry on with audacity and hope, two hearts and one body sharing an amazing biological imperative as old as time.
And so to pass the time while waiting for D-day (delivery day), I’ve been doing my own nesting of sorts: dwelling on the wonder of it all, particularly given I will have a front-row seat on all the action (I'm taking pictures!); reflecting on God’s grace; offering gratitude, and a bit of attitude, when it comes to this life-changing event.
Ironically, before I held my firstborn, I thought my world revolved around the sun. Silly me!
All women are not created equal when it comes to due dates; which is probably why only 4% of babies are actually born on their due date. Some studies suggest gestation can vary by as much as 37 days. Holy cow (an apt description of how most moms-to-be view themselves at the 40-week mark)! If I remember correctly, my mantra 7 days past my due date when I finally delivered Laura was, GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!
Returning to the quiet of my empty nest at the end of a joyously exhausting day spent with my adorable grandchildren is truly the icing on the cake.
I love how babies arrive looking old and wise, like tiny buddhas harboring the wisdom of the universe deep inside their beautiful souls.
Just when I thought I truly knew love, along came my grandchildren.
I thought my heart might break with sheer joy in the moments after giving birth to my first child. Instead, I broke my tailbone (coccyx) delivering a nine-pound bowling ball (actually, 8 pounds, 14.5 ounces, but who’s counting). Did you know I once bowled a 200 game in league play? Really, I did. Inconsequential at the moment, but still true.
Why don’t babies come with a manual; or at the very least, indicator lights to distinguish between hunger, gas, boredom/exhaustion, and wet/poopy?
We are all made of stardust, each and every one of us divine light in the dark matter of the Cosmos.