3 to 6 Months

When I hear “3 to 6 months” I think, “Well, that’s pretty vague.” When you look at it, school, for many kids, will be out for summer in three months, and then in six months it will be back in session. Four or five months puts you smack-dab in the middle of summer. I don’t like such vague terms.

However, that’s what we were given. My family, that is. My grandma, who’s health has taken an unfortunate turn, has 3 to 6 months to live. Last week she was given a CT scan and they discovered cancer. Bad cancer. Terminal cancer. Cancer that had started in her pancreas and metastasized into her liver. Cancer so aggressive that given her current condition, it’s untreatable – because of the stroke she suffered, which happened because of the heart attack she had. In fact, doctors figured the cancer is what caused the heart attack.

But what on earth would have happened if that 1 in 5,000 odd didn’t happen to my grandma and that she didn’t suffer a stroke during her angioplasty? What then? Would we keep going on not knowing? Would she still have only 3 to 6 months? Would my heart still be hurting so badly right now?

If none of this happened, my grandparents would just be arriving back into Canada from their snowbirding trip, sun-kissed and full of excitement to finally see their family after four months. My grandma would most likely have an armful of pink onesies picked out for Baby. Now … now she might not even meet her great granddaughter. I’m due in three months.

And it hurts. So much.

3 to 6 months.



I’m going to start knocking on wood now, because you can never be too sure …

Guilt is a funny thing and it hits you at the strangest times. Like how tossing out a giant chunk of leftover lasagna that’s been in the fridge for a week makes you think of starving children. Or driving to work in your nice, warm, heated seat car while people are waiting for the bus in -30°C weather.

For me, when I learned I was pregnant, I had a huge wave of guilt. I felt guilty that it only took three months of trying after being on the pill for eight years to conceive because I know so many people, in real life and through blogging, that have been unsuccessful in many ways. I’ve heard about so much loss that I just feel guilty being happy around them.

To me, it’s like I’m rubbing it in their face. For some, the wounds are still fresh, still very real, and still hurt so bad. I don’t like to bring up my own pregnancy, whine, gripe or groan about it. Hell, I even feel marginally uncomfortable being around them.

For those who have healed and let things be, I still feel guilty. It’s like saying, “Hey, remember that one time … oh wait, no, you wouldn’t.”

I know the last thing people want it a pity party and for me to pat them on the head and say “There there, it will be okay,” because it won’t necessarily will be. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I was never able to conceive or if I did and wasn’t able to carry to term, or even worse … carry to term and lose a newborn. It’s unimaginable and I don’t think anything could ever come close to that pain.

I just don’t know how to act or react around these kind of situations without feeling guilty.

How would you feel?

WTW: I’m a Crier

I know I asked on Friday what you’d like me to blog about for today’s Wedding-Talk Wednesday (now abbreviated to WTW!) post, but instead I’m blogging about my ridiculous emotions.

Apparently, anything I see or hear about weddings, I start to get ridiculously overly emotional and tear up. I bawled my eyes out when Kyle proposed, and it hasn’t stopped since then.

While trying on wedding dresses, I cried a little when I found “the one”. (Which, by the way, I had sworn I’d never call my dress “the one” but that never happened) It didn’t really help that my mom started crying too. Oh yeah, random tangent: A week after we got engaged, my mom and I went out to look at wedding dresses just to “get an idea” of what I liked and didn’t like. Yeah …. I found a dress and fell in love! It’s so beautiful … I wish I could share it with you but I’m keeping it top-secret!

Okay, so I also bawled my eyes out watching the episode of Glee a couple weeks ago where Kurt and Finn’s parents get married. That song by Bruno Mars they enter the church in? I’m totally attempting to work that into my wedding somehow. Maybe as we enter the reception … hmm ….

And, I’ll randomly cry watching various wedding shows on Slice or TLC. What a sucker I am!

Of course, they’re not always happy tears. Wedding planning has been hard, and while we’ve gotten through a lot of the tough planning (like the guest list, which I’ll save for another post) there is still a LOT to get through. Just wait until I’m neck-deep in wedding invitation kits. Or trying to find the right shade of blue for the table runners.

And now I’m tempted to make myself bawl a little bit more by watching wedding-themed movies: 27 Dresses? Check! Sex and the City? Check! (Damn that Mr. Big!) Oh, maybe I’ll throw in Wedding Crashers just for shits and giggles.

If  you’re married, did you get sobby over silly little things? If you’re not, do you?