FLASH BACK...BABY STEPS...FORWARD

Flash Back...Baby Steps...Forward

When "something" in the air suddenly lets us know that my grandchild has filled his diaper, I have no problem cleaning him up and putting him into a nice dry one.

I know this is a temporary stage of life for me and for him. It won't last long.

While I am changing him, he babbles and smiles.  Like most humans, he seems thrilled to spend a few minutes in his "birthday suit", kicking and stretching after being freed from the snug and very efficient diaper and romper.
 
His beautiful eyes are wide with curiosity, taking in everything he sees. As they meet mine, he smiles and wiggles his arms and legs in excitement. He's about to be picked up and he can't wait!

Sometimes a comment is made by an occasional observer, usually about the odor and the mess...

Very quickly (probably much too quickly) I reply how I don't mind at all, it's so much easier and nicer than cleaning up and dealing with the same sort of mess of an elderly person.
 
A memory momentarily chokes me, my mood sinks and I feel like I can't breathe.                    

I pick up my precious grand-baby, I hold him close, kiss his smooth, round cheek. As my throat relaxes, I take a deep breath filled with the scent of a newborn, this washes away the bad memory as fast as it came.

The frustrating thing about these "flash backs" is that they happen during wonderful moments. I guess it works both ways.

The other day, I brought the baby outside for a change of scenery, but also to get some fresh air. I sat on the front step, with him sitting in my lap. Instead of looking for a sweater, I loosely wrapped him in one of his quilts, so just his arms and upper torso were out of it. That way, if he wanted to move his hands, they weren't all bound up. (He's way past the swaddling stage!)

I had assumed he would be fascinated by the many passing vehicles, but I noticed that he was staring down to our right. There was a slight, warm breeze, which was causing the day-lily leaves and the ferns to gently sway back and forth. He was mesmerized. He watched them for quite a while. I watched them as well, realizing how much beauty is right beside us, that is taken for granted!
 
Eventually, he turned his head and looked down at his quilt. His clumsy little fingers were working hard at grabbing a folded edge where the patches of colors were brightest. It kept slipping out of his fingers, because his round little body was holding down the quilt, but he kept working at it, patiently concentrating, "Practice makes perfect", I thought, then:
 
IN A FLASH

A vision of my dying mother making the repetitive motion of trying to grasp her blanket, over and over. Her old, weak fingers were shaking as the blanket kept slipping out of them, because she couldn't lift herself off of the covers. Instead of just watching her, I tried to help, but because of her terminal agitation she became uncomfortable quickly and pushed the blanket off as soon as it was on, as she quietly wept the entire time.

My grand-baby's head turned up, he seemed to be looking for me. I spoke to him and turned him towards me and stood up. I propped him up on my shoulder and carried him around the yard. He always likes being walked and I needed to hold him close after that flash back.
 
I brought my grand-baby inside and as I was rocking him, was thinking about my mother. I recalled the first time I ever saw her struggling to grasp a blanket and how when I did, it gave me a flashback of my newborn grandchild unknowingly pushing at his blanket. Thinking of him at that moment, made me less stressed.
 
That was the moment I realized that in many cases we go out the same way we came in.

A dying dementia patient and a newborn baby have similar needs. They are both helpless in their own ways: in being fed, bathed, changed, and they often can't communicate their wants.

The difference is each passing day, the dying patient slips back, until death is the ultimate relief for not only the patient, where they finally have peace, but for their loved ones. It's sad to witness the suffering from deterioration and confusion of a once strong, healthy parent. 
 
As each day progresses, so does the baby. He grows stronger and more coordinated as he moves forward into life, reminding all who see him of what life is all about, restoring hope for those who have lost it.

* * * * * * *

This is dedicated to my mother, Marie, who became a mother 58 years ago, tomorrow. Starting on that day, my life was in her hands, in which she was to raise me and then 4 more children, and she also held 8 grandchildren.

It's also dedicated to my mother's first great grandchild, Oliver, my grandchild, the sweetest part of this bitter-sweet year.

October 1, 2014