Living and Dying, Just Like All Of Us

The Illusion of Control

Theo and Doris are getting ready for bed when Doris is astonished to discover warm water pooling on the floor at her feet. She stands, legs apart, leaning forward and steadying herself the dresser. For a few seconds, they just stare at the clear fluid on the floor as it spreads out across the linoleum.“I think it’s time,” she says.

Theo and Doris live in Officer’s housing on base, so it doesn’t take long to reach the Naval Hospital. At the checkin, Doris says with some urgency, “The baby’s coming.”

Of course the baby’s coming, the receptionist assures her.

“I mean the baby is coming now,” she insists.

Theo is showing the receptionist his ID card, signing papers, filling out forms. Doris tries not to cry out. Now she is in a wheelchair and someone is taking her away. “The baby is coming,” she repeats.

Yes, smiles the orderly. We are getting you up to Labor and Delivery now.

Theo is left in the waiting room, and Doris wheels into the obstetrics unit. A nurse helps the orderly lift Doris onto a bed.

“Oh my God,” cries the nurse. “The baby is coming.”

So, at a time when twilight sleep was still in use, before Lamaze and Bradley brought us back to nature’s way, I came into the world with no drugs and no cutting. We were all taken aback.

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I am walking with my daughter and her husband on a sunny bike trail in a suburb of Chicago. My grandchild was due over two weeks ago. Beulah and her husband Shem have done everything they can think of to induce labor naturally. Beulah takes herbs, eats spicy foods, tries castor oil. We have put her on the riding mower and sent her over the gopher holes in the lawn. She has danced and jumped and done endless exercises. The child remains in utero, the waters unbroken, and all of us at the end of our collective rope.

I am struggling to explain to Beulah and Shem what it feels like to take care of my mother, who reverts to childhood, but who, unlike a child, cannot be taught. My mother is going backward. Daily she makes less sense, and is more easily subject to fears and confusion. She grows weaker and more dependent.

Take your time, little grandbaby. I find it easy to wait on someone who is alive and growing. You will come, bringing joy with your newness.

When I first arrived at Buelah and Shem’s, I asked him how his parents were doing. He said, “Living and dying, just like all of us.”