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.
Sasha's Camino 