Since I Last Wrote…

The last day I wrote was January 3, of this year, twenty-eight days (four weeks) ago. I never would have expected the things that came to pass the rest of that day. I never would have expected that my daughter would have gone into the hospital two and a half weeks before her due date because she suspected her baby wasn’t as active as usual. I never would have expected my own baby to be wheeled into surgery for an emergency cesarean section, nor that there would have been a knot in the baby’s umbilical cord. I never would have expected my granddaughter to be born at 11:10 pm, at just over six pounds, and share the same birthday as my God-daughter.

God is good! I am so grateful for all the answered prayers from those who prayed and continue to pray for my baby and her baby, especially when her baby spent two nights in ICU with hypothermia. The good Lord surrounded the new family with love, comfort, and healing. The prayers have continued as my granddaughter has surpassed her birthweight, slept occasionally in four-hour stints, and is a healthy, strong, fierce miracle who has a solid purpose in this life. Her lungs are strong and she is determined in everything she does. For the moment, the determination is reserved for feeding and pooping, with much cuddling and some sleeping.

They’ve been through a lot with the move to a larger apartment within five days after Mama and baby were released from the hospital. There’s been packing and unpacking, Ikea orders and assembly, organization, donations, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping, more laundry, more clothes drying, my son-in-law’s birthday, and walks. I did make an out-of-this-world corned beef, twice now with a homemade pickling spice, Epiphany Spice, and Warsteiner beer.

My granddaughter is doing a great job training her parents in all her ways, and I’ve been trying to lend a little baby wisdom. Once we got past the initial poop (“Should we just throw out the poopy clothes?) stage, the initial burping (“Oh my God, she’s thrown up”) stage, and the initial sleep (“I’ll just check on her one more time.”) stage, everyone has settled in. They’ve gotten the hang of things and my work here is almost done.

My son-in-law asked once if my daughter had been a fussy baby. She was my firstborn, so yes. I think all firstborn babies are fussy simply because first-time parents know nothing about anything once that newborn enters the world. By the time the second and third ones come around, they’re pros, at least with their own children.

One thing for certain is babies keep us in the present moment. With all of the technological advances, delivery services (grocery and meals), and fancy equipment these babies have, there is nothing that replaces baby human contact, nor that feeling of a baby falling asleep in your arms. Even as I type, my grandbaby is sleeping on my chest, after a good walk. I’m fairly certain she has a poopy diaper so if I put her down, she’ll start fussing, so a chest nap it is, while her Mama naps and her Dad works. In other words, it’s Cha Cha time.

Thank you, Lord, for this miracle of life with all its bumpy bits, poopy diapers, sleepless nights, and the sheer joy of it all.

The Quotidian Sacred

When I was in the midst of the divorce, I recall a dear friend saying that everyone needs an extra wife, or mother, another set of hands. The other set of hands empties the garbage, cleans the fridge, the bathroom, the freezer, the hallway, makes the bed, does the laundry, makes the meals, washes the dishes, and wipes down the counters. As mothers, we learn to adapt, to do things ourselves, to do it all, sometimes running ourselves ragged.

I’ve been in Dublin for almost two solid weeks and my daughter and her husband are expecting their first child within days/weeks. They live and work (sometimes) in a one-bedroom apartment with oversized furniture that no one sits on, but it works for them. The kitchen is tiny, everything is tiny. I recalled when my brother lived in Denmark for five years, thinking that everything was so small (a large refrigerator by European standards was only slightly larger than a fridge you might find in a dorm room in the US). They have the same fridge freezer set up.

When I first arrived in Dublin (at 5 am on the 21st), we had an Airbnb arranged until December 27 and then I would move into another Airbnb until January 4. The thinking at the time was that my daughter and her husband would move into a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment in another building within the same complex. Because of the Christmas holiday, we are still waiting to hear. Neither Airbnb worked out so I’ve been sleeping on their blow-up mattress in the living room, so now we’re all living in a one-bedroom, one-bath apartment with a baby on the way. Somehow, it’s all working out, and we’re settling into a routine.

My son-in-law is a barrister (lawyer) and is trying to ease his workload in January to be present when the baby comes, so he’s cramming as much work as he can. He’s been working so hard that he came down with the flu on New Years Eve (he’s better now).

My daughter and I have been cleaning out cabinets, setting up storage solutions, shopping, chopping, cooking, doing dishes, and cleaning. We’ve made incredible dishes, like a roasted chicken with potatoes and carrots which we then turned into chicken soup, and later into chicken pot pie. Last night we made cacio e pepe which was slightly difficult to make, even though it was only four ingredients (peppercorns, cheese, pasta, water), and amazingly delicious.

The quotidian sacred comes into play, especially with the laundry and the dishes. For dishes, one starts with turning on the hot water. The switch, being a bit finicky sometimes sticks on and sometimes not. The hot water is used for showers, dishes, and turning on the radiator heat. The dishwasher is broken, so dishes are done by hand. It’s not a big deal, you just need to slow down and plan and scrub a bit more.

Laundry takes a bit more, mostly because it’s winter in Dublin which equates to rainy and wet almost everyday. You do want to make sure the hot water is out of the system otherwise the hot water gets used and things bleed. The drying is what takes the longest. Three days on a drying rack, rotating, and positioning the rack just so if the sun shines. Then there is the nightly movement of the rack into the kitchen so the bed can take the place of the rack and become my bedroom.

I am not complaining by any means, because within every movement, there is sacredness. I am getting into the groove of the Irish way. It’s more laid back and back to basics, not the rush, rush, rush of the US way of life, but the sacred routine of daily life.

What is more sacred than the birth of a baby? The way they do it here is through a midwife. It’s typically the midwife who delivers the baby, with the mother doing the labor at home, and moving to the hospital only when in absolute labor.

My daughter purchased a book called, The First Forty Days, The Essential Art of Nourishing the New Mother, by Heng Ou with Amely Greeven and Marisa Belger. It’s all about as the title suggests, nourishing the new mother with healthy bone broths and healing, nourishing dishes.

As a pregnant woman, it’s so hard to get everything done, and rest, and grow a baby. Sometimes we think we are superhuman and can do it all, but what a gift to be spending this time with my daughter who is about to move (hopefully) and assist with her nesting, and recovery. Not many people are given this opportunity, but I am so honored to be a part of this and doing all I can to be the extra set of hands to make this easier. Of course, I am over the moon about meeting my granddaughter, but to be able to take care of the quotidian sacred whilst she takes care of her own sacred being is such an amazing experience.

Thank you God, for this time, and this natural, sacred birth. Today and every day, may we see and experience the sacredness in the quotidian.

Thank you God, for the apartment coming through, with a lease starting January 10.