R Michelle

 

Gracefully Grand

It was midnight. The streets were virtually silent as we rode backed by a jazzy soundtrack, a hint of Virginia’s beach humidity and expectant anticipation. My handy wheeled cooler was filled to the brim-pizza, popsicles for hydration, a celebratory drink for me, and a handful of other Dollar Tree snacks. As we made our way through the revolving doors, the medicinal scent tinged our nostrils. I never could decipher if it was a clean smell, a sick one, or all of the above mixed with the pungent odor of that day’s lunch. Either way, it was overshadowed by the sight of ballons and stuffed animals as we stepped out of the elevator. The lights even seemed a little brighter on this floor. I imagined this had to be the most exhilarating area in the building, for this was where life began.

 

Everything about this day had been intentional. COVID was alive and well, so women who were close to full-term or overdue were allowed to select the day they would be induced and give birth. The day, the outfit, the cooler, were all deliberately planned. This was not merely a delivery, it was to be a life-changing experience. As we made our way down the dimly-lit hallway, I could see fear cross her face, so I began to speak softly, encouragingly. I had walked this path before-no instructions, no direction, and I recognized and sympathized with every emotion. I began my pep talk.

“I know this is a huge responsibility, but you are more than capable. This is life-changing, but there will be no greater joy than watching this new life blossom, and we will be here to love and support you.”  

As I finished the words, she let out a heavy sigh. I didn’t know what it meant at the moment, but she would later tell me it was one of the moments she remembered most about that day.

We entered the space where we would spend the next 48 hours. It was much larger than I anticipated. The bed looked flat and lifeless. Beside it sat a thousand sterile instruments and tubes gleaming, waiting to be deployed.  The other side of the room was a nice-sized space for guests which included a denim blue couch, and matching chaise. There was a small, desk-like table beside the window for sitting, eating or taking in a view of the hospital’s courtyard and garden area. I quickly claimed the cozy, couch corner for myself and began to unpack my cooler of birthing goodies. A nurse entered the room, and began asking my daughter questions, and getting her situated in the unlovely, pewter-blue, cloth gown, which hung snugly around her belly. Luckily, I had tucked some loungewear in my bag for her for later. Nothing worse than giving birth and feeling unattractive.

The hours afterward flew by. There were shift changes, pop-ins from her obstetrician and the necessary obtrusive check-ups. In between, we watched movies, cried and I fed her popsicles between the contractions and our laughter. Our journey had been rocky, but we were here. The closeness between me and my second-oldest child was something we hadn’t shared in a long while, and I was thankful for this moment. There was no place I would rather be than watching the one who made me a mother become a mother.

The moment of my granddaughter’s birth came fast. There was a blurred flurry of movement, and we were off to the birth races! Her doctor informed us that she was breech and her head was stuck. Yikes! Her doctor calmly coached us. It caught me off guard. His easygoing, soft-spoken and cool manner immediately diffused my anxiety-the angst I didn’t realize I had. Come to find out, he was from Michigan, and an MSU grad. He shared all of this while guiding my daughter to motherhood. I was most impressed! After my granddaughter’s arrival, the nurse appeared by my side with scissors. It was time for me to cut the umbilical cord. We had discussed my role, and I had birthed 3 children of my own, however, nothing prepared me for what I felt at that moment. In the 45 seconds she had been in the world, she had already “shat” on the floor and rolled her one open eye at me. I was a grandmother. I knew lots of grandmothers, but weren’t they the old, gray-haired ladies who cooked a lot and carried lots of peppermints, Cream Savers and butterscotch? I was not the coolest on the planet, but surely I had not evolved to be that person just yet.  As if to interrupt my thoughts, the nurse began to speak.

“Is this your first grandchild?” I nodded, filled with emotion and wonder at the life that lay before me.

“This is a big moment for you too,” she continued. This is life changing, but isn’t it a great feeling to witness this day and be here for both of them? We will be here for the next couple of days to support all of you through this transition”

It was as if she had heard our conversation, or maybe she was reading my mind, or maybe Heaven knew that I needed those words of encouragement then, and now. I could not have had a clue how this moment would alter and enrich my life-all in one! All I know is I have yet to experience a greater joy than watching all of us as we blossom and grow gracefully together.