Yesterday was like the beginning of a Charles Dickens novel for me.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Best and worst are actually pretty big adjectives, so I’ll use smaller ones: yesterday was really nice, then it really wasn’t.
I had my monthly OB appointment, heard my baby’s strong heartbeat, and got permission from my doctor to take HOT BATHS! I’d heard conflicting messages about baths, particularly hot ones, which is the case with nearly every aspect of pregnancy, and had been avoiding them.
But I missed them so much.
This hilarious and vulgar article (thanks, Tiffany!) sums it up perfectly for pregnant women. In fact, my doctor said yesterday that pregnancy is a very gray area, which I find to be weird because women have been getting pregnant for, oh, FOREVER.
But, anyway, I can take a hot bath. And I did it last night, and it was wonderful.
Then I had lunch at one of my favorite spots with a friend and laughed until my face hurt. For realsies, my cheeks were sore from all the laughter. I don’t remember the last time that happened.
Then I went home (I telecommute on Wednesdays) and spent the rest of the afternoon on my deck with my laptop and my dog. Usually Murphy’s in daycare on Wednesday, but he cut his foot pretty badly, and we kept him home this week. So, there I was, basking in the sunshine with a giant dog at my feet when I heard the slightly out-of-tune melodies of the ICE CREAM TRUCK!
I got some ice cream, of course.
And then things went downhill.
So downhill that I’m still tired today from all the crying. I’m not a crier, people, so when I do cry, it wears me out.
My grandfather’s dying, and last night he took a bad turn.
He’s in the hospital. The cancer has spread.
I don’t know what that means for the timeframe he was given when first diagnosed. Obviously, it’s not going to make things better, but I don’t know if it’ll make things worse. We suspect, though, that this is the beginning of the end.
When I wrote this back in July, I compared the time he had left to live to gestating a baby. I had no idea – absolutely not an inkling – that two months later, I would be pregnant. It wasn’t on our radar, wasn’t anything we planned to do in 2012.
But while preparing myself emotionally for the loss of my grandfather, someone I’ve adored from my earliest memory, I’ve also been preparing myself emotionally for the arrival of my daughter.
The juxtaposition of the two is jarring.
My last grandparent is leaving and my first child is on her way.
Maybe that was the plan. Maybe that’s why I got pregnant when we weren’t trying; maybe it’s so their spirits can touch somewhere in the middle, one on the way in and the other on the way out.