Waiting to Exhale

I lay on the floor beside 2yr old granddaughter, Avery, watching her breathe. She is asleep, tucked into a little makeshift bed beside Nana’s big bed. She is unaware of the changes happening in her life at this very moment. No matter how much doting parents prepare the way for a new baby’s arrival, there are always surprising adjustments for the older sibling. As I mull these thoughts around, Avery sleeps with trusting abandonment. I pray for momma and babe, for my son who will surely be feeling moments of helplessness this night. The phone lies between Avery and me; the little one sighs in slumber. I smile in response, waiting for the call so I can exhale fully.

Only two years old and this little sweetheart’s world is about to be turned upside down. Ah, one never grows old enough to escape life’s sudden twists and turns. I’m glad I don’t have the power to protect my loved ones from this truth as I’m sure my interference would mess life up more than letting it be.

I confess I thought life would be easier, or at least more figured out, by the time I aged to Nana status, but the older I get the less I know. My own life feels full of birthing and death. There are things wanting to be born in me, things needing to go fallow, things needing to die. I sit by candle light in these dark nights and am grateful for the pull to rest, to hibernate, to embrace darkness. Like a babe in the womb, dark, enfolded, I sometimes need a season of nurturing. The gentle dark quiet helps prepare me for spurts of growth, change and of course, for life’s surprises.

Happy birthing day, new little one. I’m so sorry your tidy little world is contracting too. Thank God, loving arms are waiting. And, thank God for hellos, for siblings, for rest after labor, and for light that comes after darkness.

Joyfully anticipating,
Sharon