Today, I am a grandma in waiting. . .
My firstborn daughter was induced yesterday and is still in labor.
“Today is the day,” the doctor said.
I’m not sure what to do with myself, or what to write.
“Write a letter to your unborn grandson,” I heard Gabby say.
“What? What would I say?” I replied.
“Something will come. Trust me. Just get it started, I’ll open the door for what needs to be said,” she promised.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“You might as well, you’ve got nothing else workin’ for ya,”
“I said I would, now you are sounding like Bernice. Be nice. Geez.”
This is how things go in the morning when I show up to write, whether I have something or not, my writing angel sits and waits and gives me guidance. I really need to listen to her more because as I read through my old notebooks, she has been telling me to do the same things over and over. I always have good intentions, but I lack follow through because of distractions or fear. I need to vow to commit to listen to her.
So. . . here goes. . .
I’m sorry. I’m sorry we are all so obsessed with meeting you that we are evacuating you from your warm and safe home before you are ready. I know that where you are right now is your refuge – your nurture nook – your Sanctuary – your hide-away from the harsh conditions of this world. If I were you, I’d never come out, the introvert I am. Maybe you and I will have this in common.
This world is scary. There are things that could hurt you, even things that could take you away from us. Alligators, swimming pools, men with guns, drugs and alcohol, illness, depression. Already, you are not even here and I fear what the world could do to you. There are bullies and your first love will break your heart into a million little pieces. You might have teachers so overwhelmed with today’s standards that they don’t have time to see who you are. Your coaches might not let you play because they don’t think you are good enough. Or, maybe you will be an artist, but will fear being who you really are – all these hunters, fishermen and athletes surrounding you. I fear you will succumb to the pressures of the world and feel the hate from those who are angry and worse yet, that you will be angry back at them. And, I worry that you will believe a society that tells us you have to be the best, have the best and get as much as you can.
I’m here, beautiful grandson, as your grandmother, to oversee what your parents miss in protecting you from all of this.
But, I know, in reality, that I can’t.
I try to have hope for our world – I do. I’m praying that you will have strength and resilience and that whatever hurts you also shapes you into a more loving and beautiful human being. I’m praying for our leaders and that the people of our country have enough love in their hearts to choose a president who leads with this same compassionate love. I’m praying for the people who carry so much hate, those who feel violence is the best answer. I’m praying for those with mental illness, that they receive help and understanding from someone who cares. I’m praying for a world that listens to one another without judgement. And, I’m praying for our environment to be safe enough for us to keep living here. Our foods are causing cancer, our cell phones causing loneliness. I just keep praying and praying.
It’s all I have to hang on to.
The prayers of the grandmothers.
But, today, I must focus on the present. Your mother has been in labor for a long time. She goes without food or sleep and I fear her nearing exhaustion. She and your dad have waited for you for so long. Two babies they’ve lost before you, they call them miscarriages. The world calls them not babies yet, but they were, trust me. They are your siblings – little angels that will guide every step of your time here on this earth. Your parents carry this extra love they were holding for both of them.
Triple Love you’ll get.
So much love waits for you, dear little one.
So, don’t be afraid. Even though we are. We don’t want to push our fears on you. Instead, we will shower you will love, so you feel safe.
Until you are able to go out into the world without us.
That’s where your little sibling angels will take over and they will each take a hand.
That gives me hope.
Love, Your Grandmother
Shed some tears here. For Pete’s Sake. I honestly have no idea where this stuff comes from. Well, yes, I do. . .
“Thank you, Gabby,” I say to my dear angel friend who always seems to know what she’s talking about.
“You’re welcome,” she smirks, “All I did was hold the door open.”
And she winks at me.
“My work is done here,” she says.