Please Remain Seated

"Your vehicle has momentarily stopped. Please remain seated. Your vehicle will begin moving shortly."

If you've ever been to Disney World, you might have heard those words when your ride stopped in its tracks for some mysterious reason. There you sit, often in nearly complete darkness, perhaps perched on the edge of a precipice or tilted at an odd angle, waiting for some unseen technician to push the button that will send a surge of electricity and jolt you into forward motion.

I'm in that vehicle now, stopped in the dark.

My intention in this blog is always to illuminate life in its most positive way, to write about things that move me, inspire me, experiences that help me grow as a woman, a writer, a person. But the truth is, that life in general is not always positive, that difficult things happen and sometimes cannot be made rosy, must simply be lived through and learned from.

Last week, I wrote about the exciting new ride our family was embarking on, about the baby my son and daughter in law were expecting. Yet, this week, that ride has stopped, the forward progress halted before the ride had barely begun.

Statistically, I know that more than 60% of women will suffer miscarriage, and that the vast majority of them go on to have healthy, happy babies, often rather quickly afterward. Intellectually, I know that when a woman miscarries early in a pregnancy, it usually means the embryo was "flawed" in some way, could not sustain life. Practically, I understand there are griefs far greater, sorrows much deeper, disappointments much harsher to bear.

Emotionally, none of that matters.

It takes so little time for a mother to endow her baby with an entire world of possibilities - whether that baby is still only a tiny bud yet to flower, or a freshly born, squalling bundle of life. While your body is suffused with hormones, your mind is flooded with hopes and dreams, anticipations of what this child will be like, will do in the world. It happens in a heartbeat, a finger snap, the few seconds it takes for the line on the stick to turn blue. You are a mother.

A friend wrote these words to me:

"Attempting pregnancy is to accept the whole spectrum of possible outcomes. It's emotionally terribly risky, as is parenthood itself. You leave yourself wide open to fate; your children hold your whole life in their hands, for good or for ill. You're open to feelings and experiences that are like nothing else in life. In the end, the early miscarriage may play out in a positive way for them -- they'll have far more perspective and depth than so many whose pregnancies occur as a matter of course. It will make their baby even more precious, even more of a miracle."

I believe this is true, that Brian and Nantana have already taken a deeper step into being parents than they realize, have already risked and suffered, have experienced a taste of the challenge and joy of having children. When this ride is once again set in motion (as I believe it will be very soon), they will be stronger parents and stronger partners when it reaches a safe and natural conclusion.

For now, we shed tears, take deep breaths, and remain seated.

Into the Future!

When I was growing up, my grandparents lived with us, and while it was perhaps not the greatest thing for my parents marriage, it was a gift for me. I was the only grandchild they had, so naturally they thought the sun rose and set at my feet. And yes, according to conventional wisdom, they "spoiled" me ~ not so much with material things, as with love and attention, which are certainly greater gifts in the long run. My grandmother often stayed up nights with me, comforting me with stories during my frequent asthmatic episodes. And she was the one who started me off on the piano, teaching me "Amzing Grace" and "The Blue Danube" waltz.

My son also had the benefit of a close relationship with his grandmother, who lived just a short bike ride away. My parents were literally the only babysitters Brian ever had, and he considered their house "home." My mom was always available with a listening ear, a hot meal, and, yes, some extra cash if needed. She still delights in pampering him with his favorite foods, and has been busy shoring up the pantry in preparation for his visit next week.

Grandmothers have been very important in this family.

Now, it's my turn. This morning, Brian and Nantana called with the splendid, thrilling, exciting, and joyous news that they are expecting a baby!

Grandchildren are marvelous additions to any family. But when you're an only child who is the daughter of an only child, the wife of an only child, and the mother of an only child~well, do the math. There are very few of us around the table at holiday time.

So I'm more than excited about this baby. In many ways, I'm just plain relieved. Brian has no siblings, no cousins, no aunts or uncles - when Jim and I are gone, he would be completely alone in the world. Thinking about that was heartbreaking to me.

But now - no worries. Children are the link to the future, your best "insurance policy" against isolation and lonliness.

And yes, selfishly, I wanted all those unique and wonderful traits I love about my son - his creativity, his intelligence, his independence and quirky sense of humor - to be passed along, to continue to exist in the world. Combined with Nantana's good sense, determination, and caring nature, and with who knows what combination of characteristics from his or her Asian-Armenian-English-German-Irish-Scotch heritage - well, this child is bound to be quite a person.

I can hardly wait!