Grazie, Niobe, for my capital letter "E."
The way these work by the time I get something everyone else has already got it (typical, I got chicken pox in seventh grade), so I'm going to go nuts here and reach outside the grief box and plop it over in the IF column and give it to Ahuva Batya at The Anguished Corn. I'm so glad Mel at Stirrup Queens pointed her out -- she's a freakin' good writer, funny, poignant, and introspective. Plus: she runs, has dogs, likes wine, and daily shoe zen? Rocks. Check it out if you haven't already. (Plus, she's just getting going on IVF #1, so wish her well while you're there.) (And do all the cool bloggers live in the MN environs?)
(Pardon the bigness of the "E", I'm normally not that ostentatious. Blogger image is a bit wiggy lately, and is anyone else mortally hurt by the loss of spell check? I haven't used a dictionary this much since third grade.)
I feel as though I have nothing to say, and yet am anticipating having an awful lot to say next week. I lived in Germany for a year back when I was 6/7 years old, and remember going to my classmates' birthday parties and noticing the children -- in addition to their presents -- bearing flowers for the birthday child's mom. I've always loved this tradition of honoring the mother on the child's birthday, sort of a way of saying thank you for bringing this soul into the world, and, not unimportantly, thank you for all of your hard work getting them to this point. I have on occasion, for friend's kid's first birthdays, just sent the mom flowers figuring the kid was probably overwhelmed with Fisher Price goodness anyways. I thought I might get some flowers for Maddy, but decided that they would be for me as well. I was never thanked for going through 9 months of a rocky pregnancy, for laboring, and for bringing a terminal child into the world. I feel my first year without Maddy has been eons harder than it would've been with. I also feel as though I've done ok by her, expressing how much I miss her, how much I love her. And so, before I chickened out totally, I ordered flowers that we'll receive on Tuesday.
That's all I've done to prepare. Other than clench my jaw. Now I just need to hold my nose, jump in, and get to the other side.