Big Breath In. Big Breath Out. Repeat.

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

I’m halfway out the door already today with one full day of work left before I’m “off” for the next two weeks.

Cause grandma.

Frak.

TL;DR my mother’s mother is on home hospice. My daughter is named after her. So I’m grabbing girl twin and running to the States to introduce them and say goodbye.

I’m still… finding it… difficult to think about?

One of my earliest memories is attending my great grandmother’s funeral and seeing my mom cry.

I was thoroughly confused.

But now MY grandmother is in hospice and I am….

I’m still in shock.

Photo by Rod Long on Unsplash

Trying to write this article is intense. Like, really intense. Like, rewriting and getting distracted and not wanting to do it. But it’s good for you, you know? To get these feelings out on virtual paper. To get things out. To vent.

I keep writing things and then deleting them. Which is kind of the opposite of my philosophy. I try to write uncensored. Or as freely as possible. Get it all out there and edit for ease of digestion. Or emotionally vomit and let things land where they will.

But now?

It’s a lot.

Let’s focus on the basics.

I’m going to grab L (and luggage and stroller) on Thursday around noon and take the bus to meet a friend in Groningen for a light lunch and a rest before jumping on the train to go directly to the airport where we’ll spend the night at a hotel. While the flight isn’t until the early afternoon on Friday, I didn’t want to jump onto the flight having wrestled with a one year old and luggage and stroller on a bus and a train and THEN a seven hour flight to DC.

This way the trip is broken down into hopefully digestible chunks.

When we land, I have a car rented and her stroller seat doubles as a car seat – we’ll drive forty minutes to my aunt and uncle’s house where L will probably sleep. If she follows S’ pattern for flying to the States, she’ll not sleep ONE SINGLE WINK on the way over, then sleep in the car, then bounce awake for another few hours before it’s actually dark and time to sleep locally.

And also if she’s like S, she’ll vomit from exhaustion in the car about ten minutes after I start driving, but let’s hope she’s her own person, shall we.

Part of me is in shock that I’m flying to the States to say goodbye to my grandmother. That she might pass having never met G. That she might pass at all.

But another part of me is in shock that I’m flying with just my daughter. It’s HER first time flying AT ALL. And it’s international. It’s her first time spending the night in a hotel. It’s only her second time sleeping separately from her twin brother.

The very first night I was back in the hospital after giving birth (yay, infection! and surgery!), the twins spent one night apart because one baby ended up staying with me while the other spent the night at home. They complained the whole night and slept very poorly, but they were also only days old.

As soon as P walked in with the second baby, both of them stopped complaining.

So this might be disastrous.

In many ways.

Or beautiful.

In many other ways.

Or both.

Photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash

My plan is to ignore all these daunting expectations – both good and bad – and just exist in the moment as much as possible. The next two weeks are going to be intense, perhaps, and other things, probably, but a few things I know – I’ll be in the DC area. With my daughter. Spending a lot of time with family.

Big breath in. Big breath out.

Let’s do this.