"I gave up my breast for a grandchild."
Yep. That's one of the first things I said to Oldest Son and his wife when I woke from anaesthetic. Dearest One told me days later that I might want to clarify what I meant because I had been pretty loopy at that point. Narcotics or not, I knew exactly what I meant and why.
Funny how one can know exactly what they mean and think it's clear to others, no? So I explained to my daughter-in-law that being without my breast meant being without cancer and living long enough to be a grandma. Gracious woman that she is, she was cool with my explanation.
During the week before I had my mastectomy I listened to a guided meditation for those facing surgery and part of it talked about being surrounded by a magical band of allies in the operating room. In my mind that meant not only those who love me in the here and now but those who have gone on before me - the communion of saints - if you will. It was a comforting thought.
When I was wheeled into the operating room I looked around at the space and realized my magical band of allies would need to squish in tight if they wanted to fit. And so they did. When I was under anaesthetic I saw a beautiful, magical band of allies - all glowing an intense white - outlined in different heights like someone had taken a grey pencil crayon and traced their various heights in one long stroke. I couldn't quite reach out and touch them but they were close. In amongst the beings, who had no distinct features, was this little girl - in full colour - with very distinct features. She had run over to my operating table and was nestling back in between those glowing white beings when I saw her. Her face radiated such indescribable joy that I smile every time I remember her. While she wasn't a mini version of myself I felt she was definitely related to me. I wondered who she was. I thought of the (three) babies I have miscarried.
And it was this in-full-colour-little-girl I was thinking of when I told my son and his wife that I gave up a breast for a grandchild.
In September I will welcome my first grandchild. Boy or girl, my joy is indescribable.
Yep. That's one of the first things I said to Oldest Son and his wife when I woke from anaesthetic. Dearest One told me days later that I might want to clarify what I meant because I had been pretty loopy at that point. Narcotics or not, I knew exactly what I meant and why.
Funny how one can know exactly what they mean and think it's clear to others, no? So I explained to my daughter-in-law that being without my breast meant being without cancer and living long enough to be a grandma. Gracious woman that she is, she was cool with my explanation.
During the week before I had my mastectomy I listened to a guided meditation for those facing surgery and part of it talked about being surrounded by a magical band of allies in the operating room. In my mind that meant not only those who love me in the here and now but those who have gone on before me - the communion of saints - if you will. It was a comforting thought.
When I was wheeled into the operating room I looked around at the space and realized my magical band of allies would need to squish in tight if they wanted to fit. And so they did. When I was under anaesthetic I saw a beautiful, magical band of allies - all glowing an intense white - outlined in different heights like someone had taken a grey pencil crayon and traced their various heights in one long stroke. I couldn't quite reach out and touch them but they were close. In amongst the beings, who had no distinct features, was this little girl - in full colour - with very distinct features. She had run over to my operating table and was nestling back in between those glowing white beings when I saw her. Her face radiated such indescribable joy that I smile every time I remember her. While she wasn't a mini version of myself I felt she was definitely related to me. I wondered who she was. I thought of the (three) babies I have miscarried.
And it was this in-full-colour-little-girl I was thinking of when I told my son and his wife that I gave up a breast for a grandchild.
In September I will welcome my first grandchild. Boy or girl, my joy is indescribable.
11 comments:
So, so happy for you, Hope! For the communion of saints, for a radient little face, for family with grace... for a grandchild. Yay!
Yay! This is such wonderful news. You're going to be the best kind of grammy.
Grandchildren are our first taste of heaven... Congratulations, my friend!
glorious!
Whoop! Wonderful news!
How cool is that?!?! Wonderful, Hope! Congrats to you, Dearest One, the parents as well as aunt and uncle!
God bless both, baby and GrandmaHope.
Wow, Hope! What a beautiful experience in surgery with your band of allies! I am so happy for you and for your family to be receiving this brand new life. Blessings on all of you!
Sounds like you hit the jackpot, Hope.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
I gasped and my heart leapt and then I cried.
What unspeakable joy, what incredible goodness. Reminds me again that the veil is so thin.....
I rejoice with you, friend!!!!
Oh, being a grandmother is the most wonderful thing on earth. You will love it.
Post a Comment