Cyber Baby

I have a grandson. This is a new thing under the sun. Three precious granddaughters have already shown me the ropes so that I know how to braid baby fine hair, sew one dress that eventually all three will wear, and read books and color as we chatter away about princesses and Queen Amidala, and how cute the young Obiwan Kenobi is. I have gazed into the eyes of my granddaughters and marveled that I somehow had a part in their existence. 

I was present for the birth of one of them, because our son happened to live near us at the time. That was a hushed and calm affair necessitated by a scheduled Caesarean. It was hard to believe there had been a birth when my daughter-in-law was wheeled off and came back an hour later, smiling, rather sleepy, with a quiet little bundle in her arms. The other two girls were born in South Carolina – a little far to go when things start in the middle of the night.

Recently, when my daughter back east called to tell us she was in labor four weeks early and nineteen hundred and fifty miles away, I was dismayed. Our vacation to Maine was scheduled for the end of July, in accordance with her due date. My husband and I both needed to work up until that time. We were going to miss everything, I thought. We sighed and prayed, and longed for time travel. 

I’ve written previously about the blessing that social networks can be, despite being a cross between a circus and a pre-teen’s private diary. We are connected in a way that was never possible before. So think for a moment what it meant to us when we went into work and checked Facebook (a legitimate work activity since our church has a page) to see that my sister was posting messages. She was our daughter’s birth coach and she started out with “Labor is progressing smoothly”, with the appropriate measurements spelled out. “Em is doing great,” was soon followed by “Epidural is coming.” We realized, once again, that we have entered the space age and we hovered around the computer monitor, attempting to focus on our jobs, but not getting much done. 

I could imagine Emily with her humor and courage riding each contraction through to its peak, both anticipating and fearing the moment when life changes forever. I had hoped to be there with her, but babies usually come on their own terms. Still, we felt so in touch through this technological marvel that it didn’t hurt quite so much. Through the morning, updates trickled in. She was ready to do the hard work but needed to wait for the epidural to wear off – and “scared; please pray!” Then, “hard labor and her back really hurts”. We puddled up then, and tried to find work to do as we thought of little else but our baby girl, having her baby. An hour later, “You have a grandson!” and there he was, fresh and new and wonderful. 

Sometimes life seems hard and unfair. Being an optimistic person, I try to find the bright side in all that happens. However, when I couldn’t be with my only daughter as she delivered her first child, it was hard to see what was good in that. Miles separated us; others were there for all the firsts; it was going to be weeks until we got back to Maine. I pondered the inequities of this life quite fiercely for a while. 

But then I looked at that picture on Facebook of brand new Owen Russell, less than five minutes old. His eyes were dark and curious, and his strong chest pink and healthy. I could almost imagine the weight of him in my arms from the pictures. I knew exactly what the good was. I was looking at him.