I went back & forth between immersing myself in the joy of being around him, holding him, watching his every movement -- and a curious feeling of detachment. I watched Older Nephew & his wife, the proud parents, cuddling him, feeding him, burping him, putting him in his swing while the rest of us ate... and thought, "This is parenthood. I never got to do this. Any of this."
I watched SIL, the proud grandmother, cuddling her grandson as he slept & giving him little kisses on top of his head, and thought to myself, "This is what it's like to be a grandmother. I'll never get to do this."
I watched Younger Nephew's wife take her turn holding the baby, smiling at her nephew, and knowing she's hoping that someday soon, it will be her turn. I thought, "That was me, 30 years ago. I was young and full of hope once too."
My hope now is that she never has reason to lose hers.
SIL's dad -- the baby's great-grandfather -- was there, and we took a photo of him with SIL Older Nephew & the baby. (It was actually dh who suggested taking the photo.) Four generations. I wanted that shot so badly for my own photo album -- to introduce our daughter to her great-grandparents (my maternal grandparents), even if she didn't get to grow up with them in her life. But I lost her in utero in August 1998; then my grandfather died in October 1998 (and then my grandmother the October after that, in 1999). I was due in November. Grandpa was 86, had some heart issues and was increasingly frail; there's a good chance he might not have lived long enough to see my daughter born, even I had brought her to term. I was 37 years old -- how many 37-year-olds do you know who are lucky enough to still have an intact set of grandparents? But I couldn't help but feel (& still feel, sometimes) that after I lost her, and he didn't have that to look forward to any more, some of the spirit to keep living went out of him. :(
Being a great-aunt is a wonderful thing, and I am loving it. :)
But it's also a reminder of everything that never was, everything we lost, everything we've missed out on.
I try not to dwell on it. I have a good life. I am ever so grateful that this little guy is part of it.
But still. It's still hard sometimes.
You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here.
Oh Loribeth, I just want to give you a giant hug. It must be SO hard watching all of these things from within the family circle but just outside the immediate one, reminded of every moment you lost. This line got me: "My hope now is that she never has reason to lose hers." and also this one: "Being a great-aunt is a wonderful thing, and I am loving it. :) But it's also a reminder of everything that never was, everything we lost, everything we've missed out on." I am thinking of you, and sending you love and hugs, and hoping that it hurts less often with time.
ReplyDeleteI get this. Completely and utterly. I've been thinking of you as I've seen the photos, hoping it hasn't been too painful. It is possible to both love these little ones, and their parents, and rejoice in their presence, and at the same time to grieve what we've never experienced. It's unavoidable. I think it helps us to feel gratitude more acutely than those who take it for granted, but that gratitude also reminds us of what we lost.
ReplyDeleteSending hugs, big ones, ones that grow like snowballs as they cross the Pacific, and then the whole of Canada to get to you.
Everything that Jess said, because she said it so perfectly. Sending you a lot of love and hugs.
ReplyDeleteThis explains so many of my feelings and thoughts when i am surrounded by friends, family and their little ones. I love being a part of their lives and as much as i enjoy it, it is a painful reminder of what my husband and i have not gotten to experience yet.
ReplyDeleteI read this post a couple of days ago and have thought about it ever since. I remember watching my cousin and his wife with their kids during the holidays and feeling like such an outsider. I really retreated from interacting with others for a long while. It just hurt too much to feel like I was gazing through a window at people while they lived their lives. It doesn't hurt like it used to, but it still feels weird for me. All of these seemingly basic experiences that nearly everyone has but I never will... I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting.
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