All Gone

All gone.

Those were the words of finality that were expressed today at the loss of my daughter’s new pregnancy.

All gone

This would have been her and her husband’s third child. This would have been Babyman and Dr. Evil’s new sibling. This would have been my sixth grandbaby.

It won’t be though, because … well I don’t know why.

Miscarriage has been one of the things I feared the most when it comes to my girls having children. I have not personally faced the loss of a hoped for pregnancy. I was not sure how or if I’d be able to help or even know what to say. Yet when the time came, we just talked, we cried, and we even laughed, because that is what we do.

The reality is that miscarriage is hard. There aren’t good words for it. Sure we talked about how several decades back you would not have even known you were pregnant yet. We talked about how they could try again as soon as she wanted. The trouble is that in the days leading up to the loss, we had talked about how the boys would handle it and what the sex would be and possible names. We got attached…just that quick.

There are also the feelings. Joy, excitement, wonder, love, and anticipation, now followed by sadness, disappointment, questioning, despair, and helplessness. And those are just my feelings. My daughter’s feelings trump mine completely. She is handling the whole thing amazingly. For her, a little dark humor goes a long way, and today she allowed herself to really feel the feelings, ultimately breaking down and crying it out. After I got the picture, I did the same.

I am truly sorry for anyone who has suffered miscarriage, as well as for the loss of a child at any stage. As mothers these losses feel as if a piece of the soul is ripped away forever.

I’ll tell you a secret; as a believer in a good good Father and Heaven, in addition to being a believer that life begins at conception, I suspect Heaven to be a place in which these children eagerly await the arrival of their parents. (I will not get into a philosophical or religious conversation about who does or does not get to go to heaven. This post is not about that.) I believe God feels every bit of grief a mother (and father and other family members) feels at the loss of a child. He lost one, and knows firsthand how it felt. Honestly he feels it every time someone chooses to not accept his love, but that is also another post altogether.

If you’ve suffered loss, you aren’t alone. There are those who will grieve with you. Today when I told my daughter I broke down and cried, her response was “I am so glad I have you to grieve with me.”.

I  melted.

In that moment I knew I had done the best I could to help her go through this thing, this horrible, horrible thing. I will keep doing the best I can and she (and I, and her husband and the boys) will get through.

 

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The Early Bird Can Have the Worms for All I Care

I am a night owl. I enjoy staying up late and then sleeping until I feel like getting out of bed even if that is late morning. I was designed that way. I am not broken. I am not irresponsible. If something calls for my having to be up early, then I adjust accordingly.

I do not normally give this much thought, except when others bring it up or I run into a situation that does not appear to be a societal norm. This last weekend fell into the latter category.

My oldest, her husband, and their boys (Babyman [4] and Dr. Evil [almost 2]) came to stay at my house for a family event. This is a regular occurrence.

The grandboys do not like to sleep in, no matter what time they go to sleep at night. That reality means others do not get to sleep in either. I am not among them. I have very little problem rolling over and going back to sleep when I realize they are up before I want to be.

*Gasp*

Yeah, yeah I heard that.

Here is the thing, the house I live in, my daughter once lived in as well. This was once her home. In fact she met her husband while it was her home, and he has spent more than his fair share of time here. They are at home here. They do not need me to host them.

We seem to, as a society expect the “woman of the house” to always be playing the consummate hostess, no matter the guest. You know what I thing about that?

Forget that noise.

My kids are grown. They know how to take care of themselves. They know where I keep the bagels and the coffee. They know how to work the TV and most anything else they could need. Why do they need me to get my grumpy butt out of bed to take care of them?

They don’t.

So you know what? When the guilt of my defying the societal norm of being the perfect hostess/mother/grandmother comes to taunt me in the early hours of the morning, backed by the voices of my grandboys, I am simply going to pull my eye-mask back down over my eyes, my covers over my head, and nuzzle my pillow until I am fast asleep, guilt free, because I will not be limited to some silly rule that was made up by some judgmental early bird who apparently likes worms.

PS. This is why I am boring reason #8.

 

Miss You Much

Writing Challenge Day 16 – Something that you miss

Babyman And His New Room

Babyman and His New Room

A few weeks ago Pocahontas and her family moved about 5 hours away. She’s always lived within a hour and we rarely go a week without seeing each other. I am very close to my daughter and being separated from her is not easy.

I have also seen my grand-boys (Babyman and Dr. Evil) on a weekly basis up until the move. I just don’t like missing time with them that I and they are used to having regularly. Dr. Evil is an infant and so I am missing some firsts/key moments in his life especially. Most days I do pretty well, but the last week has been difficult. I love all of my grandchildren dearly and being apart from any of them breaks my heart a little.  We talk on the phone and via Messenger Video. I am technically not missing that much due to technology, but I cannot touch, smell, kiss, tickle, or hug them and that is rough.

I get to see them this weekend and I cannot wait!

To all of you grandparents who live a significant distance from your kids/grandkids my heart goes out to you, I think about you and pray for you. Relationships are precious; value them and treat them with great care!

Pocahontas & the Hulk

See I have two amazing daughters. They are each in their mid-twenties. They are each married. The each have two kids. That’s about where the similarities end.

Pocahontas    Pocahontas

The older one is easily described as “paint with all the colors of the wind”. She loves color and creativity. Everything has a personality, even inanimate objects. She is a full spectrum of emotions at any given moment in time and about any given subject. She is a free spirit but full of questions about how she affects the world around her. She loves Pocahontas. She is Pocahontas, and if someone would let her keep a raccoon as a pet she would without hesitation.

The Hulk         The Hulk

The younger one has been endearingly referred to as “mean boss lady” and she loves that title. She loves bold colors, mostly red or green. She is very analytical. She tends to see the world in absolutes. For her if the numbers do not add up, then it is simple not happening. If she gets too hungry, she turns hangry. And you won’t like her when she’s hangry. She loves the Hulk. She is the Hulk, and if you piss her off she will smash something without hesitation.

They are each a beautiful conundrum. They are my daughters. They are my friends. They are my Pocahontas and my Hulk. I love them more than words could ever say.

How about you, do your children remind you of any particular characters? Do you have funny nicknames for them?

In case it needs to be said, these are caricatures at best. Both girls are by far more complicated and compelling than these descriptions, but when I call them by these names in the future you’ll understand a little bit about them. And for the record they have approved and quite honestly picked these names!