A Puff of Wind

Please note: this story deals with pregnancy loss.

I was born to be a grandma. I’m so good at it. I’m a much better grandma than I ever was a mother. I don’t know if it’s because I have the experience of motherhood behind me or if I have just mellowed with age and the chaos of childhood doesn’t faze me as much or if I just have more patience because I have more time since I’m retired and I don’t work anymore. Whatever the reason, grandmotherhood is much more comfortable to me than motherhood ever was.

My grandson Timmy just turned three years old. That’s my favorite age. I love how Timmy has developed his own personality. I love how inquisitive he is. I am never annoyed by his constant stream of questions that start with “why” and “what.” What kind of truck is that, Geemaw? What kind of bird is that, Geemaw? Why are zebras black and white, Geemaw? Why does Fluffy bark so loud, Geemaw? What flavor is chocolate, Geemaw? Why are there wrinkles by your eyes, Geemaw? Every question is a chance for me to help him learn, for me to connect with him, for me to create a memory with him, for him to trust me to be someone he can always come to with questions or doubt. The present is always about the future. If he asks me questions and I answer them without making him feel silly or dumb for asking, he will keep coming to me as he gets older and the questions are harder to ask and answer. Why can’t I play in the game, Geemaw? What does it mean when Charlie says I suck at soccer, Geemaw? Why doesn’t Chrissy love me anymore, Geemaw? What did I do to make her leave, Geemaw? Why are my parents so hard on me, Geemaw? What do they expect from me, Geemaw? Why am I an only child, Geemaw?

Now that last one, that’s conjecture on my part. Timmy is only three, and I don’t know if he will have any brothers or sisters or if he will be an only child. What I do know is that he’s an only child right now, but he wasn’t supposed to be.

Eight weeks ago I was giddy with excitement when my daughter Terri called me breathless, telling me she had just taken a home pregnancy test and it was positive. I knew she and my son-in-law Kurt had been talking about having another baby, but not this soon. I was tickled that Terri was so excited since this was semi-unplanned. I remember asking her if she had told Kurt yet, hoping she had. As much as I would love to be the first one she tells about news like this, I also know it’s not right. Kurt deserves to know first. She had told him, and he was over the moon, so I allowed myself to feel the same way!

I let myself start to dream and plan after we hung up so she could call her doctor. Did I want Terri to have a boy or a girl? A boy would be nice. I already knew how to be a grandma to a boy. I had grown accustomed to kissing his many boo boos and his daredevil behavior at the park. I knew how to roughhouse without hurting or scaring him. I had already learned about every piece of construction equipment out there because Timmy schooled me on the difference between a bulldozer and an excavator and every other big, heavy yellow vehicle known to man! I knew how to pick out cute clothes for boys with a nice balance of wild animals, dinosaurs, cars, and superheroes on them. I’ve got this boy grandma thing down, so it would be tons of fun to have another grandson.

But then I start thinking about a girl. A granddaughter. Oh, goodness, how fun would it be to see Kurt be a daddy to a little girl? He’s the oldest of three boys in his family, so he has no idea what it’s like being around little girls. And I chuckle a little at the sweet revenge it would be for Terri to have a daughter just like her! But really, Terri was a wonderful child and actually a really good teenager. She and Kurt would be blessed to have a daughter like Terri was. Having a granddaughter would mean buying all the fancy, frilly dresses for holidays, all the cute shoes, little headbands, fun dress-up clothes, Barbie dolls and American Girl dolls with all the clothes and accessories, makeup, prom dresses, and maybe someday even shopping with her and Terri for a wedding dress! Maybe I would get to attend dance recitals or gymnastics competitions or volleyball or softball games. Maybe I’d get to take her to get her ears pierced. I almost hug myself with excitement at the thought of a granddaughter. I know I could be good at being a girl grandma, too. After all, look how well Terri turned out, and I’m her mom! I don’t take a whole lot of credit for my daughter being the incredible woman she is, but I had a hand in it, and at least I can say I didn’t totally screw her up. If I could help guide a granddaughter to grow up to be as wonderful as Terri, that would be a blessing indeed!

Honestly, when it was all said and done, I realized I don’t have a preference. A granddaughter or a grandson are equal in my eyes because no matter what, that’s my grandchild and he or she will nestle right into my heart exactly the way Timmy has. It’s hard to believe my heart has that much room. I was sure I could never love another child as much as I love Terri, and then Timmy came along. So I knew that this new baby would fit perfectly. Boy or girl.

As the weeks went on, Terri and I talked daily about the new baby. I asked about how her morning sickness is (terrible, it’s more like all day sickness) or if she had food aversions like she did when she was pregnant with Timmy (not this time, but she’s already getting terrible heartburn). I asked her if she was going to tell anyone else. I mean, it was early, maybe a month. Damn, home pregnancy tests are so good now, much better than when I was pregnant with Terri 32 years ago! She said she figured she would make it public, “Facebook official”, after seeing her obstetrician in March, almost 2 months from now. That’s another thing that is just amazing to me, that doctors will wait until women are 10, 12 weeks along before seeing them. Even though Terri didn’t plan to say anything to anyone, it all kind of trickled out anyway. When she had to leave a meeting at work to throw up, she ended up having to explain it to her co-workers. When she declined a glass of wine at dinner at her in-laws’ house, she had to fess up to her mother-in-law who was immediately suspicious. And she had to come clean with her friends every time she declined a drink or took a pass on going out because she was just so tired. It seems like everyone eventually knew Terri was pregnant. 

We talked about the nursery, how she and Kurt would turn their home office into a room for the new baby. It’s right across the hall from Timmy’s room. He was so excited to be a big brother! He wanted to help change diapers and feed bottles and read books. That’s what he told me when I shared his room would be right across from the new baby’s room. “I know, Geemaw! I can give bottles, and read stories for to go ni-night, and change diapers, but not poopy ones. That’s ockey!” I asked Timmy if he wanted a baby sister or a baby brother. “Hmm,” he said, dramatically placing a finger alongside his cheek and looking up in the air, contemplating. “A baby sister!” Terri groaned every time he said that. She wanted another boy. She thought it would be easier since she already had everything she needed for a boy. And yes, she planned to find out the gender. But no gender reveal party, just a little thing in the backyard that she and Kurt can record and share online. 

We talked about how miserable it would be to be seriously pregnant over the summer. I had Terri in September so I was huge the summer before she was born and it was no fun at all. So much chafing and prickly heat rash in unmentionable places! Swollen hands and ankles and feet. Sweat rolling down my back, leaving damp butt imprints everywhere I sat. Terri rolled her eyes, “Gee, Mom, you make it sound so pleasant!” I assured her that the beautiful baby she has after is all worth it. 

The weeks flew by with dreaming of my new grandbaby, and I called Terri the morning of her doctor’s appointment to remind her to call me after to hear how it went and get me baby pictures from the ultrasound. Around lunchtime, my phone rang and I answered quickly when I saw Terri’s number. But I immediately knew something wasn’t right. Her voice was quiet and measured. She told me that there’s nothing to see on the ultrasound, just an empty sac filled with fluid, no little fuzzy blob of a baby on the ultrasound. It confused me. She had got all the symptoms. The positive test. What does this mean? The doctor said he wanted to see her again in a week in case maybe the baby was just too small to see right this moment. But I could hear in Terri’s voice exactly what was settling into my chest – and it wasn’t not hope. It was the heaviness of knowing the truth but not wanting to speak it into reality. It was knowing that there is no baby. As much as I wanted to believe in miracles, it didn’t seem realistic to start now. I came to the subconscious realization that my baby was going to have a miscarriage.

A week later, another ultrasound just confirmed what Terri and I already knew in the deepest parts of our hearts. There was no baby. The doctor gave Terri options and she chose to see if her body would miscarry naturally.

My heart aches for Terri. But I am quickly failing as a mother because I have no words of wisdom for her. I myself have never gone through this, and to be honest, I don’t know very many women personally who have. It’s a blessing to not know the pain of losing a pregnancy, but at this moment, it frustrates me to not know what to say or to have anyone to turn to for guidance on what to do for Terri. All I know how to do is be strong for her, let her lean on me or cry to me or wrap her in a hug. And I’m glad to have that role to play because it keeps me from falling apart at the thought of losing the grandchild I’ll never have. The ache in my heart can’t compare to Terri’s, of that I have no doubt. But inside my heart, I’m reeling from my own kind of loss and pain. All those things I dreamed of – not happening, at least not now. Maybe later, but I know better than to say anything like that to Terri. I’ll let her take the lead on discussing that possibility, if she chooses to talk with me about it. 

Three days later, the miscarriage started. She had quite a bit of cramping and bleeding. Her doctor assured her it was all normal. She got through what looked to be the complete miscarriage and saw her doctor today, about a week after it all happened. He said everything looked good. The miscarriage was complete and she’ll be back to a normal cycle again in another month or two. 

Terri Is here now after picking up Timmy from daycare after her appointment and they came to see me at home. I’m sitting on my porch swing when they arrive. Terri settles into a rocking chair while Timmy climbs up next to me, snuggling close, driving his toy car up and down my leg and belly while Terri tells me everything the doctor said. She still sounds and looks sad, but I think I see a little relief in her eyes knowing that this is going to be in the past and she can move forward. I feel that pit in my stomach again, making me feel like I’m failing as her mother because I just don’t have the right words. All I can do is grab Terri’s hand as she walks by me into the house to get a drink. I hope she can feel the love in that little clasp. I’m Terri’s mom; I’m supposed to protect her from harm. I couldn’t spare her this pain. There is no feeling as awful as helplessness. I pull Timmy a little closer to me, kissing the top of his head, inhaling his sweet scent – a little bit of fabric softener, a healthy dose of apple juice, and a dash of dirt from the daycare playground. “Geemaw, mommy is not having a baby.” His words shock me even though they shouldn’t. It’s probably natural that Terri told Timmy. I confirm for him that he’s right, and ask him how he feels about that. “Is okay, Geemaw. Mommy says she loves me just enough!” I hug that little boy close and assure him that yes, she does. Then I look at him and make sure he knows Geemaw loves him, too. “I know,” he says and goes to give me a little kiss on my cheek but kind of misses, instead giving me a warm little puff of air on my cheek. I smile because this is how it goes with Timmy; he’s a boy on the move and doesn’t have time to make sure his kisses actually hit the mark. They’re just little puffs of air on my cheek.

Terri emerges from the house and takes Timmy’s hand so they can go home. I stand up and give her a big hug but have to let her go because Timmy is pulling her away, wanting to get in the car so he can look for trucks on the way home. I sit back down on my porch swing and watch them drive away. I feel myself getting choked up at the finality of it all. Somewhere in heaven, at least in my belief, there is a little girl or little boy that I dreamed about with my daughter. A little boy or little girl who will maybe get to play t-ball or be in a ballet but I won’t get to see it. A little boy or little girl who will have to wait a while before I can read a bedtime story to them. A little boy or little girl who will have to wait to meet Timmy. A little boy or little girl who will have to wait for a hug from me. A little boy or little girl whose kiss on my cheek will never come.

I look across the yard at the trees swaying in the breeze and feel a puff of air on my cheek.