The surgery is over and the new normal is beginning. It is July of 2000 now and we are starting to piece together the plans for life going forward with our new reality. At this time, my mother was still in the hospital recovering, but by mid July she was moved to a rehab facility were the real work of moving forward began. It was determined that the best course of action was 8 weeks of radiation followed by a brief rest period and then a low dose chemotherapy more for the sake of comfort than cure. Each doctor we saw continued to suggest that six months to a year is the best we could hope for – all I, in my selfishness wanted, was long enough for my child to be born and meet her grandmother. I was still  convinced that the pea in my uterus was a girl, and my mother seemed quite certain of it talking often about what color we would paint the nursery and the pink shower she would finally get to plan for me.

The Fourth of July was always one of my mother’s favorite holidays. Whether any of us were on board or not, she always insisted on going to view the fireworks, This particular year she, my dad and I (and perhaps others) viewed them from the fourth or fifth floor of the hospital. It was a great view, and for a few brief moments we all reveled, and ooooohed and aaaahed over the flashes of light in the sky. It was a lovely break from reality and a nice chance to laugh and enjoy the boomers.

Shortly after this time, mom was moved to rehab. She quickly did what needed to be done often noting that if she wasn’t discharged soon she would never again see the inside of her beloved home. Because of her determination, by mid August we were hanging welcome home banners and gingerly settling her back into her home. Mom was never one to talk about the future, pain or emotions and this ride would be no different. With the exception of a few conversations that I will address in another essay, she never said the word cancer, death, or time aloud. She simply went back to living and started planning for the day she would meet her new grandchildren. As it turned out, it was now clear that  she would be meeting two as we had just discovered that my sister was expecting in May – a joy that has put mom into hyper-excited overdrive about the future for all of us.

The fall passed in a blur of appointments and visits with friends as mom was clearly working to see everyone she had ever known or loved quickly. One day that sticks in my head so clearly is October 5. On this day, I was scheduled to have an ultrasound on my now 16 week pregnant belly. Having had joyous pregnancies with all of my kids, I was greatly enjoying the middle months this go ’round and couldn’t wait to finally find out if we would be painting a pink room. Mom was insistent on coming to the doctor with me so she would be the first to know the news. The doctor’s office, fully versed in the whole story, did us one better and allowed her in the ultrasound room with me. My husband was away on business at the time, so it was just the three of us(counting the baby) in the room. The preparations were quick and soon the TV screen over my head was alive with images. I could feel my mom’s heartbeat and my own and my unborn child’s syncing up as I lay there. I heard the quiet sobs of my mother when the doctor paused around the area of the child’s backside and smiled. I smiled too as I had known at a soul deep level that which was now obvious. The child residing within my belly was a full fledged, perfectly formed beautiful little girl. Mom whooped, I hollered and the doctor cheered. We cried, we laughed and then we all went to a quiet place inside of ourselves to figure out exactly how we were going to navigate to the moment of her birth together. I was not ready to raise my daughter without my mother, I was not ready to be the matriarch of the family at 35 and I sure as heck was not ready to plan a funeral when I should be planning the greatest celebration of life our family had ever seen.

What I knew for sure was that my mom would meet this child – there was never the slightest inkling of a doubt that this would be true, the question was how and where would they meet and what shifts in reality would happen over the next 24 weeks.

One thing I knew for sure was that this story had been set in motion long before I was born – a last gift from the woman who birthed me to create a whole new life experience for all of us.