Shortly after I announced my pregnancy last week, my symptoms started to subside. As much as I tried to tell myself this was normal for me at 7 weeks, I also knew that the last two babies had passed away at 7 weeks. I finally decided to just go in to the OB’s office and relieve some of the anxiety I was feeling.
Baby looked beautiful! And I cried. Baby’s heart was beating at 179 beats per minute and he or she was measuring right on (even a bit ahead). It was so good to see a normal sonogram after so many heartbreaking ones this winter.
I felt like I could finally celebrate.
When I got home, my elation changed to heartache. My mom called to say my grandpa (the only grandpa I’ve ever known) was dying.
We went from life to death in a matter of hours. And I cried.
So, here I am at 8 weeks pregnant, preparing for life and preparing for death all at the same time.
And it is a little strange for me to be here. You see, I’ve lost people in my life in what seems like the wrong order. First my dad, then my daughter, and now my grandpa.
It makes me realize once again just how precious life is.
Whether it is unborn, 7 months, or 94 years of life.
So, I celebrate.
I celebrate a new life growing within, strong and healthy, and a grandpa who lived 94 years strong and healthy.