Throw Me a Rope
We hear a lot of talk about what happens when we grow up - the ways we'll change, the lessons we'll learn. How we'll become calmer, better, more rational people. We'll do good. We'll get things right.
Meredith generally prefers it if babies are kept on the other side of a window from her. It's not that she dislikes children, although there's always a certain measure of awkwardness when dealing with their parents, mostly because she sometimes has trouble seeing the same appeal a doting mother might. It's just that it's easier that way. On the other side of a nursery window, they're safe, they're guarded, and Meredith can envy them the clean peace of being new in this world. Someone else takes care of them and she doesn't have to worry about getting something wrong, and maybe there's still some part of her that feels that, whatever's wrong with her, whatever keeps that spark of unhappiness going, might be catching.
But she's been entrusted with the care of Madeline Woodcomb for a few hours while Ellie works in the clinic and Devon does whatever it is Devon does (run laps? Climb mountains? Meredith has no idea), so separation isn't really an option. For the most part, Maddie's a good baby, a quiet one, and Meredith thinks she might be doing alright after all. She's got a textbook out and she's leafing through it one-handed, preparing her lessons for when school starts again next week, holding Maddie carefully against her and, at least for Meredith, the whole thing is incredibly surreal.
Me? I'm still trying to figure out when that happens. We get bigger. We get older. But it turns out growing up? Doesn't actually give us the answers we thought it might when we were little.
She's a teacher, even if it's only one class a week. She's holding a baby, even if, thank god, it's not hers. A year ago, she was talking to a friend, expressing doubt over Ellie's decision to keep going like life here isn't a massive gamble, and now she's holding Ellie's baby and living with that self-same friend. Life goes on after all and it's settled into something she never anticipated or asked for, but doesn't really mind now it's here. Not, at least, until Maddie stirs from her nap, tiny fists waving, and starts to cry without warning.
"You need any help with her?" Sarah lingers by the bookshelf in a way that makes Meredith think she might be keeping an eye on her and the baby both, and she can't blame her. Sometimes she doesn't understand why Sarah isn't the godmother, why anyone would entrust her with a child, but she doesn't want not to be up to the task now it's hers.
We're all just trying to find our way and age doesn't have a whole lot to do with it. We age, we adjust, but we might never actually change. Maybe we just get better at covering up our flaws, learning to live around them. Maybe there's no such thing as growing up.
"I've got her, it's fine," she says, rising gingerly from her seat on the couch. "Can you watch these for me? I'm just gonna walk around with her."
"Sure, of course." Sarah smiles, drifting idly over to glance at the scattered papers once Meredith starts out the door, though there's nothing of interest there. Cradling Maddie against her, Meredith heads out into the hall, away from the noise of the rec room, bouncing the baby gently. "Shh, shh," she says, "come on, it's okay. Your mom's gonna be done soon and then you can go home, alright? I know, I'm paying attention now, it's okay."
[Timed to this morning. Sarah is available as well, if wanted.]
Meredith generally prefers it if babies are kept on the other side of a window from her. It's not that she dislikes children, although there's always a certain measure of awkwardness when dealing with their parents, mostly because she sometimes has trouble seeing the same appeal a doting mother might. It's just that it's easier that way. On the other side of a nursery window, they're safe, they're guarded, and Meredith can envy them the clean peace of being new in this world. Someone else takes care of them and she doesn't have to worry about getting something wrong, and maybe there's still some part of her that feels that, whatever's wrong with her, whatever keeps that spark of unhappiness going, might be catching.
But she's been entrusted with the care of Madeline Woodcomb for a few hours while Ellie works in the clinic and Devon does whatever it is Devon does (run laps? Climb mountains? Meredith has no idea), so separation isn't really an option. For the most part, Maddie's a good baby, a quiet one, and Meredith thinks she might be doing alright after all. She's got a textbook out and she's leafing through it one-handed, preparing her lessons for when school starts again next week, holding Maddie carefully against her and, at least for Meredith, the whole thing is incredibly surreal.
Me? I'm still trying to figure out when that happens. We get bigger. We get older. But it turns out growing up? Doesn't actually give us the answers we thought it might when we were little.
She's a teacher, even if it's only one class a week. She's holding a baby, even if, thank god, it's not hers. A year ago, she was talking to a friend, expressing doubt over Ellie's decision to keep going like life here isn't a massive gamble, and now she's holding Ellie's baby and living with that self-same friend. Life goes on after all and it's settled into something she never anticipated or asked for, but doesn't really mind now it's here. Not, at least, until Maddie stirs from her nap, tiny fists waving, and starts to cry without warning.
"You need any help with her?" Sarah lingers by the bookshelf in a way that makes Meredith think she might be keeping an eye on her and the baby both, and she can't blame her. Sometimes she doesn't understand why Sarah isn't the godmother, why anyone would entrust her with a child, but she doesn't want not to be up to the task now it's hers.
We're all just trying to find our way and age doesn't have a whole lot to do with it. We age, we adjust, but we might never actually change. Maybe we just get better at covering up our flaws, learning to live around them. Maybe there's no such thing as growing up.
"I've got her, it's fine," she says, rising gingerly from her seat on the couch. "Can you watch these for me? I'm just gonna walk around with her."
"Sure, of course." Sarah smiles, drifting idly over to glance at the scattered papers once Meredith starts out the door, though there's nothing of interest there. Cradling Maddie against her, Meredith heads out into the hall, away from the noise of the rec room, bouncing the baby gently. "Shh, shh," she says, "come on, it's okay. Your mom's gonna be done soon and then you can go home, alright? I know, I'm paying attention now, it's okay."
[Timed to this morning. Sarah is available as well, if wanted.]