Final of the posts being brought over from the .org site. (See Day 81 post for more detail). Original post date unknown but my best guess if the April of 2020.
Take 1: Not really the stellar start we hoped for.
Starting a family was always on our radar. We had discussed it well before marriage was even on the table. Once we tied the knot, we decided to wait a year before even trying to get pregnant. We wanted to take some time to enjoy being married and just the two of us before we became a threesome. I wanted 4 kids. Hubby wanted 2. Somehow I always thought we would meet in the middle and end up with 3. Then we got pregnant. Boy did that change my theory of 4 kids being the way to go. But anyways, for our one-year anniversary we took a trip to Ireland and Scotland. I had studied abroad in Ireland previously so we were able to visit with a couple of my close friends and who doesn’t want to try Haggis. Either way, it was a wonderful way to enjoy some time away. When we got back, we were both in the mindset that we were okay with getting pregnant at any point.
I think when you begin that discussion, your brain runs into all the things you’re going to do as a parent. And everything you won’t. No television. The baby will be walking at 6 months old. Talking at 9. Be bilingual at their first birthday and singing Itsy Bitsy Spider in three languages by the time they’re two. Y’know. All the realistic elements of raising a tiny, beautiful, screaming, drooling, amazing human being. And then there are the pregnancy goals – eating only the most highly nutritious, all-natural, non-GMO items. Exercising every day. Twice a day. In between working full-time, being sick, in massive amounts of joint pain. Totally makes sense. Most certainly realistic. Cue the first soon-to-be parent slap in the face.
Skip to 2 months later.
Gram was my hubby’s amazing paternal grandmother. For many years, we visited Gram on holidays. Easter. Christmas. Maybe even for birthdays. She was in an assisted living facility and after one visit, realizing that I knew little about Gram or much of her life before, I asked Mike why we didn’t visit her more often. I’m not from the East Coast, so the more family I could have out here, the better. There wasn’t much stopping the visits except a little discomfort in going to the assisted living facility and seeing Gram bedridden. After a brief conversation that the visits really weren’t for us, they were for Gram, we decided to visit more often. So every week we popped in for a little bit of time with her. Some weeks were long and speckled with stories of life with Mike’s grandfather (who passed when Mike was young), others were short and adorned with a scoop of Gram’s favorite ice cream or Chinese takeout. I don’t think it took us long to realize that those visit were just as much for us as they were for Gram.
She regaled us with stories of a life so very well lived. Details and people we would never meet but certainly knew more than we could have ever hoped for. Family recipes she created with the precision and love of only the best grandmothers. Ones we tried to recreate for her but would always fall just a little bit short of her standards.
We made sure to fill her room with pictures of her family – those that she loved with every fiber in her body, that holidays threw up all over her walls and there were candies that she could share with her favorite aides.
This is not about what we did for Gram. At least it’s not meant to be. It is supposed to be about the depth and joy she shared with us over those visits, the gratitude I had for being able to have a grandmother out here. How I would visit her on certain weekends when Mike wasn’t around. That on one visit, Mike was at the Patriots playoff game against the Baltimore Ravens. Cut to the Brady to Edelman to Edelman’s pass play. Gram was chatting about a topic I won’t ever remember, but out of the corner of my eye, I knew she would want to see what was happening. I kept tapping her arm to make sure she saw. Once her attention turned to the game and she recognized the oddity of the play, she (while keeping her eyes glued to the television) yelled at me – “oh shut up..my boys are playing.” She was a diehard Patriots fan (as they all are) and after that play, we went back to our conversation, but I had to chuckle at her spirit. I get it. I’m the same way. Luckily she cut me a break being a Packers fan and still always sent a little good luck to Rodgers as well – as long as they weren’t playing the Patriots of course.
Alright so that was a little background – actually skipping to two months later.
One visit to Gram she asked me if during the last time she saw us, I had told her that I was pregnant. Mike and I both looked at each other and chuckled at the idea. Not. A. Chance. We laughed it off and just let Gram know that no, we were not pregnant. She chocked it up to a dream and that was the last we talked about it. We wrapped up our visit, thought nothing of the notion and headed off to our cousin’s graduation party.
We imbibed in several libations at the party, celebrated the hell out of the graduation and made our way home for the evening. Not wanting the party to end and since it was a beautiful night out, we decided to have another drink and stick our feet in the pool. I grabbed a bottle of wine and we relaxed with our feet in the pool. Not a bad idea. Just not the norm. Wine. Pool. Wine. I’m pretty sure there was also a block of cheese and crackers involved. I don’t think I shared.
The next morning, my brain wandered back to the conversation with Gram. Maybe there was something to what she said. I don’t know why I put any stock in it. There was no way. NO. WAY. Well….I did have some pregnancy tests in the house from a prior month when I was absolutely convinced I was pregnant (shocker…I wasn’t). I mean it couldn’t hurt. Took a test. Took a second look. Took a third look. NO. WAY. So, we were on the road to being parents. Mike just didn’t know it. I also was a little too hungover to deal with this. And since I was clearly already winning at the parent game, I took a nap.
The following day was Mike’s birthday so I surprised him with the news. I think we both looked at each other, a little guilty that two nights prior we were not necessarily A+ parents. Let’s be real. We clearly were not. But that was the beginning of our road to being parents. I felt a little better after I read in one of the baby books that at that stage you were okay with a little bit of crack. Crack? Yeah – I think we were in the clear. I still have to wonder if the the only craving I had during pregnancy – DiGiornio Pepperoni Pizza had anything to with our pre-baby reveal night.
I think the most amazing thing that came out of the story was that Gram knew even before we did. We don’t know how, but in her own way, she knew. And so it was only fitting that she was the first to find out from us. Her health declined in the next few months so during one of the visits, we made sure to whisper to her that she was correct. Her dream was right. We were going to have a baby. We lost Gram 5 months into the pregnancy and although she will never be able to meet our little guys, I have no doubt that with her faith and love of family, she is looking down on our boys all the time.
I’ve also learned to let go of all the expectations you have of yourself as a parent. That sometimes you just need to find the flexibility that makes you uncomfortable, forgive yourself for the little things (and the big things), and that throwing all rules out the window can be the best path forward.
Too Much Laundry, Not Enough Wine 