This post is a bummer and I’m totally unloading, which doesn’t seem fair as you hardly know me (yet), but this kind of stuff doesn’t stop happening when you’re pregnant so I guess it’s fair game.

My grandma was diagnosed with bone cancer on Thursday, entered hospice on Friday, and died on Monday at age 87.

She was the type of person that was on a first name basis with the mailman, fed her roofers lemonade and cookies, and was seriously interested in the life of every person she met.  She was sharp, inquisitive, and always ready to learn new things.

Us with my grandmother
Grandma was a master quilter. Five years ago she gave me and my brother baby quilts for our future children “just in case” she didn’t get to it later.

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Quilt made by my grandma

She was also a fabulous knitter. Every Christmas we got wool socks – they are awesome. I always wore holes in my pairs before December rolled around again. I do have one secret, perfect pair that I’ve never worn tucked into the back of my sock drawer – I guess I was subconsciously worried about a time when I wouldn’t get restocked at Christmas. I hope my feet are cold in the delivery room, because I plan on wearing these suckers when my baby pops into the world.

My feet in socks knit by grandma

My grandma embodied everything I hope to be. Up until Thursday, she lived independently, drove herself everywhere, took care of her dog, mowed her own law, and was above all else, a life-loving lady.

In fact she’s such a good role-model that before we got pregnant, we decided to make our first baby girl her namesake (in addition to her many charms, she’s also got a great name – it was easy to agree on). We hadn’t told her yet that baby tricycle would share her name (if the bambino’s a girl), so we delivered the news on Sunday in the hospital room. She had a lot of drugs in her system, and I’m not sure she knew we were there, but I managed to choke it out without losing it.

Although it sounds crazy, and has no basis in theology, a part of me really likes this image: as she was declining, her spirit was somehow being absorbed into our growing baby’s. Weird, right? I’m not religious, but I’m really grasping at this idea (maybe I’ve just been helping too many kids with Buddhism /Hinduism projects lately). Either way, I’m all about the idea of her living on in many little ways.

I’m lucky to still have one grandmother remaining; she’s equally  wonderful – vivacious and youthful, and at 88, also continues to mow her own lawn (maybe it’s a secret to longevity?). I can’t wait for her to meet her first grandchild.

Me with my other grandma

Me and Grandma B. Ignore the dryer sheet pinned to my hat -- we were picking flowers for my bouquet the morning of the wedding, and the black flies were something awful. If you've never experienced black flies, consider yourself lucky!

How have sad things affected your pregnancy?