Babies, Brides and Boobs
2013... What a year it's shaping up to be!
And by shaping... I mean body shapes! Okay, so maybe that's something of an exaggeration. I'm not quite sure how that applies to brides, except that one person becomes a couple. Sometimes my metaphors don't quite work out.
Still, this is the most exciting (in a positive way) year since my daughter's wedding -- and I didn't think anything could top that! Watching your daughter get married is not at all the same as marrying off a son. Especially when the son is long distance. With Robyn's wedding, we were very involved, part of every decision, aware of every step. With Jeff, we were the in-laws, careful not to step on toes, watching to see that we didn't overly state our own case, and trying to stay relevant from 900 miles away. Luckily, in both cases, our children's new in-laws are lovely people and we feel as though we have just made our family larger, not lost bits and pieces of it.
So now my son is married and there is another Mrs. Heller. She wears it well, and he is glowing. But that's not all. I have two more weddings (that I am aware of) to go this year. My daughter has others to attend. My friends have been telling me of weddings they are going to -- all this year. Seems marriage is back in style. I've even started watching Say Yes to the Dress. I have to tell you -- some of these brides and their entourages are nuts!
Meanwhile, babies galore! And the most special of all, to me, is my own first grandchild, currently incubating and getting ready for its "Facebook official" announcement, probably sometime this weekend. Robyn and Mat have received good news from various tests and have passed on a beautiful sonogram photo, and Gary and I are already in love with the little face we saw.
When I saw the sonogram of my own child, little Robyn-in-the-womb, I could not make out a thing. And yet, she was "older" than this little 13-week-old bit of a child. But here, I can see a face, nose, ears, forehead, chin... 34 years of scientific progress! They wouldn't let me take home a photo of her; Robyn has an image on a smart phone, and texted it to us. And yet... her incubation, birth, childhood... they all seem like just a short time ago. I remember it all so clearly. My own childhood, now, that's the dark ages. The 50s. Just writing it makes me feel old. I barely remember that era. The 60s and 70s, well, people who remember them barely lived them. ;) Ok, that is so not true, but I had to say it because it's expected of the flower-children generation.
We are very ready to be grandparents. My neighbor already has a pack-and-play and bassinet for me. "Your first grandparent gift," she said. I am so into that!
And then boobs. Well, I could have called this post "waiting for that other shoe." But that would put a bad spin on all this good stuff, and truthfully, it's not that big a deal. I had a mammogram before the wedding that showed those annoying calcifications, like I had 15 years (and one month) ago. When I was called back for a second set of films, I was not happy. But that it was just calcifications was reassuring; Gary reminded me that my NJ surgeon had warned me they would probably show up again. They wanted to schedule the biopsy, but I said it had to be after the wedding; no way was I going to maybe find out bad news right before the wedding.
Two days after the wedding, I had the biopsy, which itself was fodder for a separate post. The results came the next day. It's not cancer. But it's not nothing. So I made an appointment with the surgeon my doctor recommended, and also had the films and the report sent to my surgeon in NJ. ALH, Atypia lobular hyperplasia, basically means I've got a bunch of extra cells ganging up in there -- same place as last time -- that may, at some future time, cause problems. Therefore, in we go to scoop 'em out before it's too late. And, while she is in there, check to be sure there's no cancer in there already. As the doc said, about 4 times a year, she finds a cancer in there, and she found one the day before she saw me, so she figures I'm in the clear.
My NJ doc called just as I was going to my WI doc appointment. She concurred; get in there, get it done. So, the week of my son's 31st birthday, probably on the day of my cousin's 59th birthday (she who had breast cancer 4 years ago), I will get scooped out.
When I got the diagnosis, the thought of another grape-sized lump of me being removed was depressing. I started to think of myself as having a flat tire. Then, my lighter side took over. I took a post-it note, wrote a little something on it, plastered it on the appropriate spot and went home to my husband.
It read: Clean Fill Wanted.
And by shaping... I mean body shapes! Okay, so maybe that's something of an exaggeration. I'm not quite sure how that applies to brides, except that one person becomes a couple. Sometimes my metaphors don't quite work out.
Still, this is the most exciting (in a positive way) year since my daughter's wedding -- and I didn't think anything could top that! Watching your daughter get married is not at all the same as marrying off a son. Especially when the son is long distance. With Robyn's wedding, we were very involved, part of every decision, aware of every step. With Jeff, we were the in-laws, careful not to step on toes, watching to see that we didn't overly state our own case, and trying to stay relevant from 900 miles away. Luckily, in both cases, our children's new in-laws are lovely people and we feel as though we have just made our family larger, not lost bits and pieces of it.
So now my son is married and there is another Mrs. Heller. She wears it well, and he is glowing. But that's not all. I have two more weddings (that I am aware of) to go this year. My daughter has others to attend. My friends have been telling me of weddings they are going to -- all this year. Seems marriage is back in style. I've even started watching Say Yes to the Dress. I have to tell you -- some of these brides and their entourages are nuts!
Meanwhile, babies galore! And the most special of all, to me, is my own first grandchild, currently incubating and getting ready for its "Facebook official" announcement, probably sometime this weekend. Robyn and Mat have received good news from various tests and have passed on a beautiful sonogram photo, and Gary and I are already in love with the little face we saw.
When I saw the sonogram of my own child, little Robyn-in-the-womb, I could not make out a thing. And yet, she was "older" than this little 13-week-old bit of a child. But here, I can see a face, nose, ears, forehead, chin... 34 years of scientific progress! They wouldn't let me take home a photo of her; Robyn has an image on a smart phone, and texted it to us. And yet... her incubation, birth, childhood... they all seem like just a short time ago. I remember it all so clearly. My own childhood, now, that's the dark ages. The 50s. Just writing it makes me feel old. I barely remember that era. The 60s and 70s, well, people who remember them barely lived them. ;) Ok, that is so not true, but I had to say it because it's expected of the flower-children generation.
We are very ready to be grandparents. My neighbor already has a pack-and-play and bassinet for me. "Your first grandparent gift," she said. I am so into that!
And then boobs. Well, I could have called this post "waiting for that other shoe." But that would put a bad spin on all this good stuff, and truthfully, it's not that big a deal. I had a mammogram before the wedding that showed those annoying calcifications, like I had 15 years (and one month) ago. When I was called back for a second set of films, I was not happy. But that it was just calcifications was reassuring; Gary reminded me that my NJ surgeon had warned me they would probably show up again. They wanted to schedule the biopsy, but I said it had to be after the wedding; no way was I going to maybe find out bad news right before the wedding.
Two days after the wedding, I had the biopsy, which itself was fodder for a separate post. The results came the next day. It's not cancer. But it's not nothing. So I made an appointment with the surgeon my doctor recommended, and also had the films and the report sent to my surgeon in NJ. ALH, Atypia lobular hyperplasia, basically means I've got a bunch of extra cells ganging up in there -- same place as last time -- that may, at some future time, cause problems. Therefore, in we go to scoop 'em out before it's too late. And, while she is in there, check to be sure there's no cancer in there already. As the doc said, about 4 times a year, she finds a cancer in there, and she found one the day before she saw me, so she figures I'm in the clear.
My NJ doc called just as I was going to my WI doc appointment. She concurred; get in there, get it done. So, the week of my son's 31st birthday, probably on the day of my cousin's 59th birthday (she who had breast cancer 4 years ago), I will get scooped out.
When I got the diagnosis, the thought of another grape-sized lump of me being removed was depressing. I started to think of myself as having a flat tire. Then, my lighter side took over. I took a post-it note, wrote a little something on it, plastered it on the appropriate spot and went home to my husband.
It read: Clean Fill Wanted.