Today my oldest granddaughter turns 28.
Way back in 1994 her mother was spending the night with us and suffering through what the doctor assumed were Braxton Hicks contractions. I remember giving her one of my geodes to focus and meditate on before I went to bed.
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, my teenage son woke me up to say his sister was feeling awful. I got up, her father called her doctor, and I told her to change from her "I dream of Jeanie harem pajamas," into something else. She put on shorts, which turned out to be very good later on.
We jumped into our mini van and headed for the hospital with her sitting in the middle of the back seat behind us. Just as we got to the stop sign across the street from her elementary school, she stood up and exclaimed, "Mom! The baby slipped out!"
I don't remember how I got to the back seat where my teeny tiny granddaughter was swinging out of the bottom of her mother's shorts from her umbilical cord, but I scooped her up into my hands. She was so tiny, two pounds, thirteen ounces and making mewing sounds like a newborn kitten, her tiny arms smaller than some of my fingers!
I do remember saying, "Welcome to the world little one, I am your grandma."
Thank goodness we were minutes from the hospital, because I wasn't quite sure what else I should do. I knelt there holding her in my hands until we arrived. Once there, attendants rushed out and carried both mother and baby in and I was left standing in shock in the emergency waiting room looking at my hands.
It was a miracle very few people ever get to experience and one I will never forget!
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