I have been encouraged by many people, some close and some not-so-close, to turn this blog into a book.
I am going to do that.
In planning said book, I wanted to include some of the stuff from when I was pregnant with Hudson, some of the blissful-unawares, the funny musings of a pregnant woman who didn’t know what kind of hell was coming next. But I’ve been putting off the project because, quite frankly, I wasn’t sure how well I would handle reading back over the early writings. To read what it was like to be pregnant, to be reminded of all the beautiful fun, to see what I thought was so rough, well, I didn’t know if I could take it.
But this afternoon I spend some time editing the first part of the book – the Pregnancy part.
And I LOVED reading it.
I miss being pregnant with Hudson so much, and I am so glad that I captured so much of the experience here in this blog. The first doctor’s appointment. The first time the Hubs felt her kick. Sharing the news we were having a girl. The last hour has been spent alternating between laughter and tears, all a pretty amazing trip down memory lane to a much better time, a different me.
And then, I came to this post, from my birthday last year, from the day my Grandpa died.
Losing a family member is never fun, but it does force you to reflect on the lives they’d led, on the way they’ve impacted who you’ve become, and on how you want to impact the lives of those around you. [...] As hard as it is to lose somebody, death, just like life, should be a celebration. Where a new life gives us reason to celebrate potential, memories to be made, dreams to be dreamed and anything that’s possible, death gives us reason to celebrate the contribution of one person to the world, to celebrate the things that would never have been the same without that person, and celebrate our remaining chance to be important and make a difference for those in our lives.
Either way, celebrate.
If nothing else, life deserves to be a celebration.
When I first told my good friend and writing buddy TGF about the idea of turning the blog into a book, and expressed my concerns about what to include from the pregnancy, she told me this: “If you are editing things out, make sure that you put in the stuff that has a special meaning to you now… the stuff that means more because of your experience.”
Who knew I was so wise about how to deal with death? That passage I wrote while contemplating the passing of my “rogue rider” grandpa has a special, poignant meaning to me in the wake of my daughter’s death. We had to switch so fast from celebrating her life to dealing with her death, from dreams and potential to contemplating her contribution and realizing all the ways that our world was changed by her brief existence. It is hard to live these days without her, and writing about her helps to keep her close in my memory, and hopefully helps others who go through a loss. But when it comes to living life, I hope that I am doing more than just memorializing Hudson. I hope that I am celebrating her.
Because life deserves to be a celebration.