Thursday, September 26, 2013

A little rain...

Things are settling down nicely at the new house. I still have some boxes that I haven't unpacked, but after a couple of months, I haven't really needed anything in those boxes. Can't I just toss them? Well, after I find my other sneaker, perhaps.
Another member of the zoo has flown the coop. On August 17, our daughter Em married her sweetheart, Isaac. Their wedding was the coolest event I've ever been to, and I look forward to posting pictures soon (ahem). The theme was a vintage picnic, and we even had the Ice Cream Girl bring her truck for the reception. A good time was had by all.
So Isaac and Em wasted no time, they found out a baby was on the way a few weeks ago. Sadly, Sweet Pea didn't stay with us long enough to get to say hello before we had to say goodbye. We are all very sad and low since we heard the news, and would appreciate prayers for the family and for Em's safe recovery.
We had already started coming up with baby names and what we would like to be called as the grandparents. I'm not sure what to call myself at all now. In my opinion, Em and Isaac are no less Mommy and Daddy than they were when we were anticipating Pea's arrival. So I suppose I'm still a grandparent, even though the little bundle is waiting to meet us in Heaven.
As a doula, I've walked with a lot of people through losses. It wasn't foreign for me to watch impatiently on the ultrasound hoping to see something there bouncing around with a strong heartbeat, and to realize that there was nothing to see. I always thought that I was just as invested in a client's situation as I would be with any family member, and whenever there was bad news, I grieved with them. I guess it is a lot different when you're trying to support your daughter who is expecting her first baby, and your first grandbaby. I carried her for nine months and walked the floor with her nights. Her Dad and I wiped her tears, kissed her boo-boos, and bought her first bicycle (probably not in that order). I thought that I could protect her from any monster in her closet, or any mean girl on the cheerleading squad. Certainly with all my knowledge about childbirth and babies, I could keep her from having any troubles in that department. Knowledge isn't always power.
So here we are trying to keep our chins up and our eyes dry until we can get home and lay in bed and howl about it. There's nothing that anyone can say to make this feel better. I don't want anyone to say anything, really. When I get home tonight, I'd like a gallon of chocolate covered cherry ice cream, a spoon, and some cheesy movies. I'd like to crawl up in my bed with my entire family and just veg. We'll be OK eventually, I guess we just need permission to not be OK for a little bit.