My Little Trooper

We went home to New York this weekend to visit my parents and grandparents.

Grandma and Grandpa chain-smoked for years and honestly have lived longer than we all expected. Both are now in their 80s but dying from cancer. Last week they gave my grandma a week to live.

We really wanted her to meet Little E, so we left for New York Friday night after Mark finished work. Five hours on the road with a five-week-old. Yikes! I'm still not used to our home routine, so I really had to plan ahead for this trip.

Surprisingly, it wasn't too difficult. E slept the entire trip. We had to take a ferry, so I took her out of her seat then and fed her and changed her diaper. She went right back to sleep for the rest of the trip. It was like a vacation for me. I read my Kindle, crocheted, and chatted with Mark.

We got to my parents at 2am, and they helped us so much. Mom was able to get E to sleep so I could rest. We spent all day Saturday visiting and fussing over E. It was so relaxing.

Sunday we went to my grandparents' house. They had a "No Smoking" sign on their front door. I thought, "That's ironic..." especially considering the arguments my parents had with them about smoking around us as kids. It got to the point that they wouldn't come to our house to see us, because they weren't allowed to smoke in the house.

Wow, I just realized how much that "No Smoking" sign pissed me off. I've never smoked a day in my life, but I took it personally. I thought, "They can't just become born-again anti-smokers, at 80, while dying of cancer."

It felt like the equivalent of a serial killer turned priest, who put a sign on his cell wall just for me that read, "Thou shall not kill."

Anyway, for the first time in my life, I saw them without the cloud of smoke in their living room. It was sunny and clear. Both Grandma and Grandpa held E. Grandma's mind and memory are failing. She begged me to hold the baby, so we propped up E on a pillow on her lap. She cuddled her and examined her feet.

Then she forgot she was holding her and tried to use E's head as an armrest. I quickly moved her elbow off of E's face and decided to pick her up. Grandma fought me, but I had to insist... She yelled and told everyone to shut up and leave her alone. I scooped up E, and soon Grandma forgot about it. The funny thing is that, when my sister and I were little, Grandma never took much interest in us. She loved us but was just more detached. Something about seeing her fight for E made me emotional. Maybe I shouldn't read into it too much, but it was like... I know she always loved us, but it felt like the cancer broke down that barrier that always kept her from showing us just how much.

The longer we were there, the more obvious it was that Gram was fading fast. She couldn't stand on her own and was refusing help. She'd randomly start singing funny songs. When I smiled at her, she yelled, "Stop laughing at me!!"

Finally we decided to head out, and we said our goodbyes. I left with a good feeling about the visit. When I got to our car, I realized I had left E's diaper bag in the house. I went back in, and my aunt was in the bathroom helping Gram. She poked her head out and asked if I wanted to say one last goodbye to Gram. I went in, and she was on the toilet. My aunt insisted it was fine. I gave Gram a quick kiss on the cheek. She started talking like a little kid, not wanting to go to the bathroom. She asked me to stay so she could get up and hug me. I waited, but my aunt eventually ushered me out. I left, but I regret not waiting - not giving her one more moment of dignity to stand on her own two feet and hug her granddaughter goodbye.

Anyway, overall it was a successful trip, and everyone was happy that we did the trip and brought E. She was a fantastic traveler (better than me), and I was so proud of her patience being passed around so much. She was so quick to adapt to new people and places.

I can't help but feel that this little five-week-old baby helped make the situation okay for me too. How blessed I am to have a calm, little soul by my side; a warm, little hand to hold; and a funny, little smile to help me heal and move forward.