Brand New

Brand New

Mammo and Athena finally meet!

When I was 30 I received the official diagnosis of IgA Nephropathy. I was at work when my doctor called with the results of the biopsy I'd had the week before. He was sympathetic, kind, gentle even in his delivery of the bad news, and even though I didn't understand the full implications of what he was saying to me, I knew enough to understand that the softness of his delivery meant bad things for my future.  I left the room and walked down the hall at work in a daze.  My boss asked me to go pick up some food from an Italian restaurant for one of the residents and without even blinking I agreed to go.  What I really wanted to do was to go home and hug my girls. I wanted to cry. I wanted to talk to someone who would tell me that everything was going to be okay, but there was no one to turn to. In that moment, no one on Earth could honestly tell me that everything would be fine.

I eventually went home to my girls. I gave them the hugs and took comfort in having them in my presence. Later that evening, after the were asleep I  went online and looked up my prognosis.  It was scary. I wrote my worries in my journal. I remember wondering if I would live to see them graduate from high school? Would I get to see them get married? Would I even make it to see them become teenagers? I sat and imagined all the things in life I was going to miss and my heart broke into a million pieces as I thought about my daughters experiencing all of life's "firsts" without me.  I ached for them and for myself and I suppose in a way, I started grieving the life I'd never get to live.

I never imagined I'd have another child just 6 years later.  Even after I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't believe it was true.  I was told I'd never survive pregnancy and it was difficult, but I did it and I have my awesome little boy now.  Sure, I still sometimes get locked into the cycle of anxiety about whether or not I'll get to see HIM grow up, but now that I've made it this far, I can actually imagine making it to see him become a young man.  

Last Saturday when I walked into a delivery room and had a nurse hand me this beautiful little chubby-cheeked baby I was in complete awe. I was pretty much speechless as I took her in my arms and looked into her tiny face.  My daughter sat in the bed looking tired but glowing with the beauty of those early moments of motherhood and I honestly couldn't believe I had made it to see my own granddaughter.  It seems funny to me even typing the word.  Granddaughter.  I have a granddaughter!  I know it sounds like a horrible thought, but when you live on borrowed time, it seems like things need to happen sooner rather than later; otherwise they may never happen at all.

All I can say now is, thanks.  Thanks to God or the Universe or whomever decided to let me make to this milestone.  Thanks for the huge roller coaster ride of a life I've had so far, and thanks for the hope and joy that a new generation breathes into the world.  Thanks for making my daughter a mommy, thanks for making me a Mammo, and thanks for whatever happens tomorrow.

Nothing gives a family more hope than a brand new little person who shares the same dimples, the same little curl of the lips, the same chubby cheeks and funny-shaped toes.  Nothing makes life seem more worth the journey than looking into that sweet little face and seeing it all start anew.  It has been a long time since something made me so happy, so full of hope, and so ready to take on whatever struggle presents itself next.