Laughing and Praying

I'm feeling breathless...

Aubrey's in labor with her first child, a girl. My daughter, Jess, is with her but she hasn't called and I'm anxious for an update. I know better; my phone will remain in the cradle. (no pun intended.) I will wait for good news.

[Side note: Hoo hoo ha! Hoo hoo ha! I know it does absolutely nothing for the pain, Aubrey. It's complete horseshit, really. But keep breathing, honey. Focus on the dent in the wall.]

Meanwhile, across the country in San Diego, my quirky and beloved mother-in-law, is having her uterus removed because of cancer. Johnie is eighty-four years young; a little surgery won't keep her down. That's what I keep telling myself.

Johnie's biggest concern was that they were going to mess up her bladder tuck that she'd had done a few years back...

"I just don't want to be peeing in my pants again, Elizabeth," she said.

"Nope, that's not so great,"I said, "That whole sneeze and pee thing sucks."

"I can't believe I'm laughing about cancer," she went on, "but if you can't laugh, well...you're screwed."

And then she laughed, and I laughed too. Crazy, huh?

Of course, I keep thinking about Johnie's uterus. It carried five babies; Pamela, Mark, Michael, Neal, and Amy. My husband, Michael was a Christmas Eve baby, no less. Did I not say the other day, that I was a sentimental sot? And now there's Aubrey's uterus to think about. No wonder I'm breathless. Just saying the word, uterus, is a work-out.

Monday night in May: new baby on the way in, old uterus on the way out. I feel like I should do something, like weep?

Better yet, how about some laughing and praying. And breathing.

I'll get started. Jump in any time you feel like it.