January 18, 2022

11:30 am

To the Newest Member of Our Family,

It’s January in Iowa and as one can expect, it’s cold. The furnace runs then turns off for a bit of a rest then restarts attempting to keep the house cozy. I sit curled up in the great room with the fire roaring and a blanket across my lap. I dressed warmly for the day in jeans, long sleeves and my warmest cardigan cocooning my body. As I sit here my thoughts are only of you and your mother. Wondering how things are progressing and worrying because that’s what I do. I’m too impatient, God has been trying to teach me patience but it doesn’t always stick.

As your mothers’ mother I feel a certain connection that can’t be explained by science, only by love. Last night as I placed an old receipt in my book to mark my place, turned the lamp off and curled up under the covers, I folded my hands. I prayed for you, for your mom and your dad, for the doctors and the nurses. I felt the day of your arrival was soon and I prayed for all the strength, love and support needed to get you here safely.

This morning broke bright but chilly. Our puppy Rayna whined in her kennel, needing to be let out. I stretched, checked the time 7:24 and pushed the covers back. Strips of light cut through the blinds and when I stood I dug my feet into a pair of old slippers and pulled my favorite hoodie over my pajama’s. I padded over to the windows and turned the blinds open. Rayna stood up, her tail thumping loudly against the sides of her plastic kennel. Bending over I unlatched the door and out she shot. She’s only three months old and having had her breakfast with your Papa at 4 am she had to go. I walked her to the front door, bracing myself for the cold air and opened it.

Rayna was happy out in the snow, bouncing from this to that. Her attention span is the size of a gnat. From the ornamental grass blowing to a lone leaf skimming across the snow she was everywhere. I left her out to play and closed the door. I made a cup of coffee, creamer first then coffee mixed in and found this seat in my favorite room. I clicked on the fireplace and the flames shot to life dancing happily behind the screen.

You, my dear have not been far from my mind, my heart and I considered texting your mom to see how her night was. It felt too early and if there was a chance she was resting I didn’t want to disturb her. I could wait an hour.

Half way into my cup of morning coffee your Papa surprised me with a morning visit. He needed help with something on the computer and wanted an egg sandwich. Of course, Rayna being his dog, wanted his attention too she was carrying a rope. Then my phone rang with a call from your cousin, Hadley. Papa answered and confused three-year-old Hadley why he answered when she was calling Grandma. Papa passed the phone over to me. Hadley was in her room so I asked her to make me a cup of coffee and we each said cheers clinking our cups to our screens. We chatted for a little while, then Papa headed back to work and Hadley off to play.

By then it was late enough in the morning to text your mom, 8:22. I started with a question. Was she working from home today or was she in the office? I moved onto a television show we watched last night and what we had for dinner. Your moms response didn’t come very quickly. That was my first clue. When it did arrive, she avoided my questions and talked about the tv show?? Clue number two. I responded but didn’t hear back from her. Another hour passed and I called your Aunt Emily. If anyone in the family knew what was going on with your mom it would be your Aunt Emily. Did you know she was the first to know you were more than an idea, that your mom was pregnant with you? I searched for a pretense for my call and then I’d get into the real reason later. Emily answered after a few rings. She said she was at her apartment as her next class was cancelled, the professor was ill. We discussed the unrelated topic I’d come up with and then I asked her if she knew where your mom was. Emily said “she’s probably at work” We talked a few minutes more and then said our goodbyes.

Eleven minutes later, your mom calls me. Her voice is wary, there’s fear in her words. I say hello and hear your mom tell me she’s at the hospital. I ask with laughter in my voice  “are you having a baby?” She says, “yea, since seven o’clock last night” She sounded a little exasperated.  It takes my mind a minute to catch up. Seven, last night? Oh goodness. I kick into mom mode, sensing her fear and calmly tell her it’s going to be alright. She says “I have to have a c-section, I’ve been pushing for an hour and nothing is happening.”

My own heart quickens, my mind swirls. There’s always the chance of the unexpected when having a baby. I tell your mom that God has his hand on you both, that the doctors and nurses do this daily. I hear your mom get more emotional and tell me she has to go. I tell her I love her and the call ends. This all took place in the time span of only one minute. It’s 11:24 am

Every thought fights for importance in my head. Why a c-section? Are either or you in danger? How long will it take? When will I hear more? What can I do to help?

I called your Papa next and filled him in. You just wait little mister, your Papa is the calm in any storm with a logic that soothes. 

An hour passes….no news

It’s almost two hours and Papa is home for lunch. The look we share is full of worry and love. When we can’t stand it any longer Papa texts your dad just to verify that everyone is okay. He tells me “I don’t need to know how long he is or what color his hair is. I just want to know if everyone is okay.” It took a minute for your Dad to reply. That minute felt heavy and long. Then the ping of a text rang. Your dad says they just took your mom into surgery five minutes ago and had to put her under completely and that they kicked him out of the room.

Oh dear…

More waiting.

1:42 a text arrived from your dad to your Papa, myself and your Aunt Emily:

“7lbs. 11.5 oz’s everyone is doing good.”

Little Love, I want you to know the overwhelming sense of relief and love that followed. You arrived safe and healthy. It’s taken a little more time to get the first picture of you and as I type this I’ve asked about your Mom. I still haven’t heard how my girl is. She is strong, your Mom. She has always been the second Mom in our family. She is caring and thoughtful, she is logical and laid back. She loved you when you were just a thought shared with your Dad.

I don’t know your name yet, I don’t know much about the struggle of the last 19 hours spent in labor but I do know that you are loved beyond measure and we are so happy to have you in the family.