Faith

Yesterday I went to the library and while I was there, standing in the check-out line, there was a woman in front of me at the counter from Gadsden County, a county over from where the library is. She had a stack of books, all with titles like, "How To Deal With Your Troubled Teen" and she couldn't check them out without paying ten dollars for an out-of-county card.
"Have you tried the library in Gadsden?" the librarian asked her.
The woman said, "They closed it. That's why I come all the way over here."

She left without her books. It was the saddest thing. I keep thinking of her and her troubled teen. I remember those days for me- that fear and constant worry when a child grows up enough to drive and do and be and starts to pull away and you know she's doing things that can endanger her and you don't know what to do, what to say, how to act around her, how to make her see the dangers, make her understand the depths of your love for her. It's just like when a child learns to walk and doesn't yet know that stairs can break your neck, that roads can carry death.

I almost wanted to chase after the woman when she left and tell her that probably, if she doesn't give up on the child, if she just loves her and loves her and refuses to listen when the child says she hates her life (meaning, I hate you!) and tries to keep her sense of humor and doesn't hold so hard the child can't do anything but break out, the child will grow up and be fine.

I would have told her about my daughters who pushed so hard away from me and how now, sometimes they just lay their heads on my old bosom and we love each other so much we don't know what to do about it. I would have told her about how Lily is about to have a baby and she calls me every day and we talk about it all from diapers to sex and we laugh and we have a bond now that nothing can ever break.

I would have told that woman that.

Today Lily called me after she saw the ultrasound doctor. He did his magical measurements and clicks and told her that in his opinion her baby is now between nine and a half and ten pounds. And he has two weeks to go by his dates. And how vaginal birth for such a large baby can be dangerous. And so forth.

Lily was somewhat and quite understandably, upset.

"See what the midwife says," I told her.

And the midwife told her she thinks the baby is in the upper eight-pound range and I trust her hands more than the machine that probably cost a quarter of a million dollars. At least. And yes, eight pounds is big and Owen will still be growing in there but Lily herself weighed over ten pounds and Lily is now six feet tall and I pushed her out and I think she can handle a big baby. But here we are, already being fed the fear.
Words like C-section and induction are being tossed about. "For the best outcome." And so forth.

You see that picture up there? That was Lily when she was a few days old. A newborn. See those fat, beautiful cheeks? That round head? Those perfect hands? That's how she came out. Big. A big, healthy, gorgeous baby. And she had her hand up by her head when she was born, making things even harder. And yes, her shoulders got stuck but I turned over on my hands and knees and she was born. And she was fine and I was fine, too. Yes, she was my third child but still- I am not a large woman.

We need to stop and breathe and not be afraid.

And I would have told that woman that in the library, too. To try and not be afraid but to trust her gut on how to handle her troubled teen. If her gut tells her to take the keys away, lock the child in her bedroom, then do it. If her gut tells her that this is just a very, very rough patch, to hang on and believe in her child, to do that. If her gut tells her that her child needs counseling, get her counseling. I would just tell her to keep telling her daughter (or perhaps it was a son) how much she is loved and cherished. Believe me- that child will hear those words. She will keep them in her heart, even as she laughs scornfully at the woman saying them. And to remember that every child is different and yes, reading books on the subject can help, but no one in the world has ever raised her child. EVER.

And no one in the world has ever had Lily's baby. And that we need to remember to trust our guts there, too. I think we are all sane people here and it's not like I'm talking out of my ass. I know a little bit about childbirth and I also know I would never let anything happen if I have any power over it that will threaten my daughter or my grandson. I will not.

It's hard. If Lily gave her permission, they would give her a C-section now. How tempting that is- all the worry behind you, the baby in your arms in minutes. But is he really ready? Do we know that for sure?
No. We don't.

And Lily has grown up to be wise and patient and is showing so much maturity and grace in this first pregnancy that I can't even believe it.
I wish I had known eight years ago where our path together would lead because it would have made things so much easier. But I didn't. But my gut told me that it would all be okay. That Lily was just the kind of girl who needed to go through what she had to go through.
And she did.
And she will go through this birth, and again all will be well.

I hope that all will be well with that woman's child, too. I watched as she walked away, her shoulders slumped, her arms empty of the books she had so carefully gathered to help her with her child. I felt so very, very sorry for her.

And at the same time, I felt so glad that my children and I are past that point and on to this joyful place.
So grateful.

Listen- the worries and fears of motherhood never end. They change. But they never end.
Lily is about to learn that.
And she is about to learn more about love than she ever could imagine. And so am I, I believe.
So am I.
And once again, it will be my child teaching me. And also, my grandchild.

I wait and am astounded as I do.