Music Filled the Air That Night

In the wake of finding out my uncle is dying of terminal brain and lung cancer, I realize this will be the first time in my mature, adult life that someone close to me will be leaving this realm and entering the beyond. I have feared this for a while now, knowing it would happen, just not when. Over the years I’ve been feeling sorry for other families while they deal with the deaths of loved ones and in the back of my mind, there’s this nagging, when will it be my turn to feel this way? The last time an immediate family member passed away I was a freshman in college (my other uncle). I remember being sad but distracted with my coming of age, college, independence and drinking. Death was kind of this surreal thing and its impact just didn’t sink in. It was like I was on the peripheral. In fact, my first uncle’s death affects and hurts me more now upon reflecting on it than it did when it happened. I guess that comes with age.

So now, this is all much more valid and poignant. Shit got real basically and…uh…it really fucking hurts. I’m scared and confused and I don’t understand the why. Furthermore I don’t understand why Death makes us feel this way when it is inevitable to all of us and happens every day. I guess because it is the ultimate End. In death, words like Never, Last, and Forever are used. I’ll never see him again. This is the last time I’ll see him. He is gone forever. It is finality to the greatest extent. And not knowing what comes after death just perpetuates the fear. As long as there is time and life, then there is hope. When it ends, when it ends, the hope is replaced with grief and mourning. Hope is swallowed up by the Never and Last.  Hope is gone, Forever.

Today I call my aunt to tell her that her brother is dying. I don’t know how you tell a person that. I’m going to need to clarify that it is Brother John and not some arbitrary John. Remember the timeline, ER on Sunday, diagnosis Monday, going home today. No treatment, 6-8 weeks, his kids don’t know yet. It’s outlined in my head but I feel like when I say it out loud, it will become a jumbled, incoherent mess, like in the movies. “John’s kids went to the ER 6-8 weeks ago and they’ll come home Monday.” Do I tell her about the tumors? I should tell her about the tumors. I’m nervous, scared and praying for strength. Dear God just let me get it out in one sentence. Don’t let me ramble and rumble, for both our sakes. I just need one, articulate sentence.

So here it is, my turn. My family and I are now the subjects of others’ “thoughts and prayers.”  Uncle John will soon be gone. We’ll have pictures to remember him by, the memory of him carving the Thanksgiving turkey and always being chosen as the Grace-sayer during family dinners. I imagine him and my Uncle Geege pulling each other’s fingers at the Pearly Gates. Pickled deer heart will never taste the same. There’s that damn word, never. 

Professionally Pregnant

Round III of our 3^rd pregnancy’s doctor appointments commenced today. I am a pro at the whole routine now and like to bask in the little things that make these appointments so exciting (and later annoying).

Little Thing #1

I fist-pumped at the fact that the elevator was already on the 1^st floor and awaiting our entry when we got there. First-timers wouldn’t know this but the elevator in that building is S-L-O-W and God forbid it be on any floor other than 1 when you arrive. You’ll be standing there a long damn time – enough to make you late for your appointment.

Little Thing #2

The scent of latex and hand sanitizer. It is distinct and oh-so familiar as soon as you step off the painstakingly slow elevator.  When that clean, sterile waft hits me, I imagine I’m 36 weeks pregnant and ready to pop. Soooo, I’ve got a ways to go.

Little Thing #3

While checking in, I know to automatically grab the code for the exit gate in the parking lot. The newbies before me didn’t do this and I watched as they drove around the gate because they didn’t know there was an exit code. That’ll learn ‘em. I will have this memorized by the appointment 3 and be proud of it.

Little Thing #4

Pee tests. I know to bring my own permanent marker with me strictly for use on the pee cups. Why? Because the frayed, overused and dried up marker they have in the bathroom will no longer write on the pee cups because they are frayed, overused and dried up. You basically end up etching your name in the cup with your car key.

Little Thing #5

Staring in awe at the strep B test instructions while giving your urine sample, both excited for it because doing it means you’re close to the end, but also horrified by it because well…look it up. I always look forward to telling Kyle about the experience afterward so he can be almost as disgusted as I am by the whole thing. Good times.

Little Thing #6

I no longer have to ask for help in trying to read ultrasounds. I can correctly identify each body part within the grainy mess of a sonogram. Penis? Phalange? Nope, it’s the umbilical cord. I might as well be certified.

Little Thing #7

The wrench. There’s always something involving pregnancy protocol that has changed since your last pregnancy. Just to keep things interesting, I think they throw a wrench into things, an extra no-no, an additional SOP, a quirky extra step. I go back in a month. I wasn’t expecting to go back for at least 8 weeks, like with my first two. Cool, an extra pee test…and another co-pay.

Little Thing #8

Kyle and I have a routine post-appointment lunch at Chef’s In. Every time I eat there, pregnant or not, it makes me happy. This is where I eat when I’m pregnant (smile).

Now that everything is confirmed I’m ready to rock this out. I’m looking forward to big appointments, pointless annoying ones, new belly kicks, getting fat, the countdown, my hospital stay, a new little face to love and three months off of work. Let’s get rowdy baby!

The Splendid Stare

The other day I visited my mom for lunch. She works at a hospital so we will have lunch together on occasion in the cafeteria. The Maternity Ward (is it still a “Maternity Ward” or is it just “Maternity” now? “Ward” sounds dark to me…) is en route to the cafeteria and every time I walk past it, I’m instantly drawn to it and can’t wait until my next visit. Part of me just wants to walk in and randomly visit new mothers and their babies. I distinctly remember both of my visits, walking down the long hall to the check-in desk. “Aubrey Kitzmiller, I’m in labor.” I’m instantly giddy. I remember how hysterically happy I was when my water broke with Eden. Happy because I knew birth was imminent and also because contractions hadn’t started. I couldn’t stop smiling – I’m not going to be pregnant anymore!! Hip hip hooray! Anyway, enough of the flashbacks.

So I am walking toward the cafeteria and spot this new dad (tired and staggering, lugging copious amounts of bags, flowers, pillows, and the like) and the new mom being wheeled by a volunteer behind him. She was holding her newborn and just staring. I was sure it was their first. You look at your firstborn differently. You hate to admit it but you do. The whole experience is completely new and no matter what you tried to prepare for in your head, the reality is different. She looked at him/her in complete awe, as if it was the most magnificent thing she’s ever seen. She was completely dumbfounded and in her own world. I instantly teared up. I was witnessing her falling in complete, perfect love with her child. Congratulations to whoever the new mother was. Thank you for unknowingly sharing your moment with me. I wish you luck, sleep and easy breastfeeding.

On my way back from lunch, I stopped at the Maternity (Ward?) doors and peered down the hall. I wondered who was in the waiting room, awaiting the arrival of their new family member. I wondered if any unlucky woman was going through labor right that second. I wondered what my third walk down that hall would hold. What room will I be in (the corner one rocked the first time around)? Which nurses will I draw in the volatile nurse lottery? How large will this baby be? I can’t wait. I’m eager to meet him/her even now, ready to stare…and fall in love again.