I am teaching a Childbirth Class to a group of teens. Some are as old as 20, but 3 are a mere 16 years old. I could be their mother! which means... oh yes... I could, technically, given that my own Chick will be 18 in a few weeks... I could be a grandmother.
Whoa.
Dude.
Seriously!
There is a wonderful thoughtful 17 year old daddy -to -be that I adore. His preggo girly seems blond and giggly but this daddy-o is asking serious questions, asking important questions, asking grown up questions. I am so proud of him. He will be a good dad I think, he'll be a good labor partner. He'll do well. I wish him the best. One of my momma's is a darling thing, yes, just 16, but carries a wealth of inner strength and steadyness that will work well in her labor. Oh how I wish I could be there for each of them! My little class of babies having babies.
Then I think of my own Meme and wonder if her parents sat in a class for childbirth preparation. Did they take notes? Did they read the information? Did they practice breathing? Did they welcome my Meme into this world with cries of joy? Will one of my momma's abandon her baby?
Oh. A sad world today. A sad, sad world.
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