The truth about transitions

When I first birthed a baby without drugs, I was convinced I was dying.

Pain climbed in waves, contractions piling on top of each other so quickly I could barely breathe. “I can’t do this,” I wailed to my husband.

But then I saw the spark in my midwife’s eyes. “You’re in transition,” she said, her gaze steady. “This baby is almost here — believe me.”

Transition is the stage between active labor and pushing, when contractions come fast and furious. (Google defines transition as “a challenging but crucial stage of birth,” which is like calling the epic Easter Vigil a “slightly longer liturgy.”) Transition is the peak of the mountain climb, the last mile of the marathon, the grueling final exam after a week of all-nighters.

In transition, you are certain that you cannot do it. You cannot go one minute more. But these exact words of despair signal to every professional in the room that you are about to have a baby.

Here is another story about transition. Right before I left for college, I sat on the front step of my parents’ porch and wept. I didn’t want to go; I couldn’t wait to leave; I didn’t think I could do it; I didn’t know what came next. My mother sat down next to me and talked me through. She recognized the signs of transition, having already launched my sister and brother. She knew that overwhelm was part of the process: Not the sign of a wrong choice, but a confirmation that a big change was about to happen.

This summer your family may be celebrating a graduation, a new baby, a wedding, an ordination, a move, or another transition recognized as a rite of passage. But what about the shift from one school to the next — from elementary to middle to high school? What about the sea change that comes with leaving for college, deployment or a first job? What about the unexpected grief of empty-nesting, retirement or downsizing? So many transitions deserve to be named and noticed.

Transitions are hard. But transitions are also holy. They don’t last forever; they lead to what comes next. And the passage deserves to be honored.

The Catholic “Book of Blessings” offers prayers for transitions that are often unknown among the faithful: Blessings for an engaged couple, for expectant parents, for a mother before or after birth, for adopting a child, for new homes, for new parish councils and public officials, for welcoming parishioners or blessing departing ones.

The sacred nature of such changes is honored by the church, and we can ask God to bless these turning points through prayer.

Here is a final story about transition. At the end of the Gospel of John, Jesus and Peter sit on the lakeshore together. Jesus announces a sacred turning point in Peter’s life: “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (Jn 21:18).

As for Peter, our life of discipleship — a continual “follow me” — will bring transition after transition. We will be asked to go through changes we never would have chosen. But as in birth, something greater awaits us on the other side of suffering and sacrifice.

Every time I gave birth, I swore to myself during labor that I would never do this again. But every time I held a brand-new baby in my shaking arms, the pain evaporated into euphoria.

Life asks us to say yes through the pain. Jesus asks us to follow where we do not want to go.

But the transitions we face do not have to be feared. In the light of faith, they can be blessed.

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