kiwords

Jennie called tonight, and I had to snatch the phone out of Max's hand. He was simply not relaying information fast enough. Her due date was December 30, and we've been a little jumpy around here when the phone rings.

Well, she's in the hospital, getting ready to be induced in the morning. Her plan is to try to go natural as long as she can stand it. With pitocin on the docket, I...wished her the best. Then I gave her the best useless advice I could think of.

"Remember this: when you feel totally panicky, and like there is no way you can possibly do this, it's probably almost time to push. Four times I've hit transition, and panicked every single time. I always forget that's what it is though."

See what I mean? Totally useless information. Because if I couldn't remember that, even the fourth time around, when I was 38, how on earth is she supposed to remember it, there on the threshold of motherhood, all of 18 years old?

What I wanted was to be there, to hold her hand and brush back her hair and promise her she will be okay. That's not really my place, and her mother will be there, but it's what I wish I could do.

I gave her my love and hung up the phone, and stood there in the kitchen. I was in the middle of making dinner, and so befuddled that the concept of pumpkin muffins felt like advanced calculus. As a matter of fact, when I attempted the muffins, I discovered just before I scooped the batter into the muffin tins that I'd failed to put any sugar in. I was able to stir it in at the last minute, a technique I recommend if your goal is oddly textured muffins.

Tonight I am unsettled - distracted and sad and hopeful and scared. I don't know what to do with myself, and Clay and I are orbiting each other in sober silence. Neither of us knows what to say, and both of us are raw at the heart with helpless longing.

If there is consolation tonight, as we wait, it is this: for once I am able to remember. As this baby works his way to the air, I finally am old enough and wise enough not to forget.

Fear is not the truth. Transition always feels impossible.