Full Moon — April 8

It was about 7p when my son called. Nicole thought her water broke. She described what happened.

“I think you’ll be having babies tonight,” I said. I’d just told my son a few days ago the babies would come by the 10th, because there’s a full moon on the 9th.

Nicole went to the bathroom, then returned and announced, “My water definitely broke.”

“Get your stuff, we’re going to the hospital,” my son said to her.

I went to fill up with gas, cried, laughed…did I eat supper? I don’t know. I walked around the circle to gain some calm. It didn’t work.

8:30p, my son called. They were in the birthing suite and he was handed a gown.

8:59p — they’re getting ready to go back to delivery. She’ll be having a C-section, as planned. I’m missing it. It came during Week 35, not 37, as planned. I’d hoped to be there. I went with my son through his first delivery — when Buffy had her litter of puppies. We had to break the sac on the first one because she didn’t know what to do. Then a few years later when Julie had her litter, he was about eleven and with her the whole way. She decided to deliver under our workshop in the backyard, which was supported by concrete blocks, leaving a span of about twelve inches. Julie waited out the day in labor in the center of that crawl space, and my son was under from the shoulders up, with a book, reading, while she labored. He was there for her. All day. I knew from that moment on he would be a good father.

9:24p. No word yet. Karen, the sister-in-law, is assigned to call people. “Tell her to call me first,” I said. It’s so hard to sit here and wait. I’ve baked dog cookies, I’ve nibbled on M&M’s, I’ve unloaded the dishwasher, I’ve breathed deeply, I’ve got four phones sitting around me.  I only need one. I’ve got a headache.

9:41p — a text message. “Theyre here.”

That’s it. I’m a grandmother. I don’t feel like one. I’m a grandmother. Oh my goodness. What do I do? Cry? Laugh? Breathe…

I’m a grandmother.

They’re here!

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