OLD AGE IS THE NEW PREGNANCY

  A week ago it suddenly came to me--as I contemplated sadly the few remaining years in my life--"Old age is the birth canal to the next life." You know I get God messages, and surely this is not something I could make up on my own. It is too direct, too profound, and too wise.

 

  This took me back to the deliveries of my two children, now grown, and what it was like pushing them out of my body. Birth is an experience like no other. It was extremely painful (I remember asking my mom if birth was painful, and she hesitated and answered, "Not more than a menstrual cramp, Annie." Ha!!!), transformative, taking me into another world, and at the end a miracle when they put that little, wet baby on my stomach, still attached by the umbilical cord.

 One editor told me, "Birth is one of the thin places in this world." I agree.

 But back to the connection between aging and birthing. Getting old ain't easy. All kind of weird shit happens: your back can go out, your knees get wobbly,

 joints need replacing, your eyesight suddenly fails, the brain doesn't work the way it used to, and we won't even talk about the pooching on out tummy. All this calls for great patience and acceptance, something I need to pray for because I am a fail at both of them.

 What made the connection for me between pregnancy and old age was this: I have more doctor appointments coming up than you can shake a stick at. I know we are all coming out of the woodwork after the pandemic, but this is to deal with ongoing conditions that need to be better managed. Women reading this--remember the last month of your pregnancies how you visited your doctor every single week?? It seemed excessive to me at the time, but then, I tend to be overly optimistic and think things will work out. Now I am visiting doctors regularly, and it is so like the end of my pregnancies. 

 Then follows the birth canal. I gather dying can be easy for some (just as birth is easy for some), and can be a hard and difficult process for others (just like birthing). I have no idea if my dying will be easy or hard. I pray for easy, but I have no control over this. I imagine the labor pains as I approach my end, as I enter into what they happily call, "active dying." (What in hell is that??) I imagine looking down at my body and thanking it for taking me through so many years, so many experiences, both good and painful. I imagine calling on God to hold out Her hands to me, like the doctor or nurse steadying her hands to receive my first-born.

 I envision pushing my soul towards God, if such a thing were possible, or perhaps it is more like a vibrant letting-go, a pulling away of the octopus arms anchoring me to this life.

 Then, once I am through that birth canal into the next life, what will I see? A blinding light? Catholics have a word for it, "the Beatific Vision."

Possibly my family members who have gone before will reach out their eternal hands to grasp mine. I hope so. I yearn to see my mom and dad again, my beloved uncles and aunts, my grandparents on both sides, and friends who have died far too soon. But that is not up to me, thank God.

It will be what it will be, but one thing I am certain of: There will be oceans of joy, waterfalls of relief, and cloudbursts of happiness. Because that is what God does and that is who God is. Can somebody say "Amen!"?