Sitting quietly in the waiting room, on the outside. Outside of the doors. Doors that require approval from the nurses' station before entry (or exit) can be granted. We've been excused for a moment.
Before I'm finished with that thought, I get a text from my daughter, summoning us. She's ready for our return.
Although the world is filled with death and violence, I get to set all that aside today. I'm soothed by the sounds of my granddaughter's in utero heartbeat and the steady gentle breathing of my napping grandson. It's a waiting game for us. The grandparents.
Today is our baby's 16th birthday and it seems like only yesterday that he was born. The memory of his birth is as vivid as the memory of his older sister's birth. His sister that's about to give birth. And life goes on.