Wow. Our lives were tossed upside down last Wednesday morning when my husband's grandmother (Nan as she's called, and she is like a second mother to my husband) had a "significant" heart attack, followed by a less severe one. She is still in the hospital, and they are doing what they can for her, but she is 92, and doesn't want any extraneous measures taken (including further resuscitation). Nan has always said "when it is my time to go.. its my time to go".
So we have spent a lot of time at the hospital, including stopping in after work this evening. I feel guilty, because I should be able to stay longer. But I don't think I can do it every day this week while I'm working. I'll be thoroughly exhausted by Thursday (which is my next day off). I will do what I can, but I feel bad that it is not more.
So on to my story. I was at the hospital tonight and a friend of his aunt's came in to visit Nan, and she brought her neighbour with her. This woman, I will refer to as C, is very nice. We chatted about the usual stuff. The current weather, including the hurricane warnings that turned into nothing but rain and wind for us, a little bit about the upcoming election, and then the topic of my current pregnancy came up.
Then came the discussion about Kheri and what happened in February of this year. She then said "yeah, I lost one once. A little boy. It happens." She said this with an air of ambivalence that instantly irritated me. I responded with "yeah, it happens, but that still doesn't make it OK". She said "It will be OK, eventually". I said "I don't think so. At least not for me".
So that got me wondering. At what point to some baby lost moms become ambivalent, and OK? Will we be there some day? Looking back on this as a faded memory. Will we say to fresh dead-baby moms "Oh yeah, I lost one once. It was a girl. It happens". I hope not.