Over the course of the past few years, I've realized I'm not alone. I've watched a lot of my friends welcome new little lives in the world. They all seemed to transition into their roles more effortlessly than I did, but we've shed tears together. We've prayed a lot of the same prayers. We've joked about jumping and peeing in our pants. Who knew that would ever be funny?
Tonight I was laying in bed trying to sleep. David was already snoring. Anna and Reagan finally tuckered out much later than their usual bedtime. And I lay there feeling quite alone. My Nana went to square dance in the sky beside my Papa Jack today. Despite the fact I just saw her a little over two weeks ago, and that I've been pretty much constantly connected to my family via iMessage, I feel that same feeling of isolation I did as a new momma. It's not that people I know aren't going through similar situations, it's not like I'm being left out, it's just a feeling. An incredibly exhaustive feeling.
I was thinking about my childhood. Each summer I'd spend a week at my grandparents house. Nana gave the worst baths ever. I swear she scrubbed us with Brillo pads. She always let us have dessert. Christmases had the most presents and the most beautiful tree at her house. She and my Papa fought a lot, they were loud, they laughed a lot too. We played cards. I was the princess of Rummy. We went camping in a camper with air conditioner (the only way I ever want to camp). We roasted marshmallows. They took me to Catholic church for the first time. It was a little strange to the Southern Baptist raised little girl I was. Nana didn't have the best way with words. She didn't care. She told my sister her prom dress looked like something Queen Latifah would wear. She totally meant it as a compliment. When Anna was born, she told my mom I didn't spell Anna correctly and that if it was A-N-N-A, we should pronounce it Anna (think Frozen). I, being pretty hormonal and fiesty, told my mom if Nana called my child Ah-nah, then I was just going to have to call her Non-uh instead of Nana (I'm the oldest grandchild and I called her Nana first). She said on Christmas this year my girls (one of whom is in <10% for weight) were pretty heavy for little girls. Honestly, she was probably weaker than she cared to admit., but I just had to smile. That was just her.
I'm so grateful that almost near 30 years I got to know and love my grandmother--that's a lot longer than a lot of people get to know and love theirs. There's a feeling that doesn't make me feel lonely at all. No mistaking I'll miss Nana, but I have lots of silly, funny, loving, horrible bathing experiences to tell Reagan and Anna about.
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