I knew this day would come. I’ve known since the day you died that someday, I would be here.
I started this blog as a mourning high schooler looking for an outlet, on the advice from a teacher who would end up officiating my wedding. It’s surreal to think of the way my writing has followed me through so many changes since then: college, a Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis, a graduate degree, a teaching career, five moves, marriage, and pregnancy. It’s even more surreal to think that I’ve had to navigate all of these things without your physical presence.
I started a new treatment plan this year that would allow us to have a baby. The new medication was scary because it makes most people sick. Most people have allergic reactions. I didn’t get sick. You were there.
Forty days post-infusion, we could start trying. I’m supposed to have the infusion every 6 months in order to prevent any new MS lesions on my brain. The doctor said, “The hope is that you won’t have any issues getting pregnant. If you do, things could get complicated. Treatment isn’t safe while pregnant or while trying to get pregnant.” The very first test I took was positive. A miracle. You were there.
I read about miscarriages. I cried for women I knew who lost their babies. I knew about other women who went to their first ultrasound appointments to find there was no heartbeat. The waiting is so brutal. Our baby was strong and healthy, wiggling around the screen. You were there.
We had some testing done that would ultimately identify the sex of the baby. I honestly didn’t have a feeling either way until about a week before we would receive the results. I had a very realistic dream of a baby girl, maybe about a year from now. Little did I know, my sister knew it was a girl from the beginning. You did too. I didn’t see you in that dream, but you were there.
I think about how I will feel when June comes. How did you feel when June came, in the year 1996? I’m as far along as you were… I think about that all the time. Will our girl come on the same day I did, exactly 26 years later? Dad doesn’t remember the exact date that I was due to arrive, but June 5 and June 7 are only 48 hours apart.
The nursery will be ready, the car seat base will be installed, the bags will be packed. I always thought that I would only want my husband and my mom in the room with me. You would be the most incredible grandma. You would love this baby so much. I know you sent her to me and I hope I will see you in her.
Momma, I hope you’ll be there when the day comes. She will know everything about you. I want her to play the piano like you, but you know, she will probably be as stubborn as I was about practicing. We will teach her that she can be whoever she wants to be because that’s what you taught me.
I remember you reading to me almost every night, and my favorite was “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch. We’ll read it too. I only wish you were here to read it to her.
“I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
as long as I’m living,
my baby you’ll be.”
