The birth story took 20 days to write. This entry took just as long even though I will not drag it out into multiple parts.
I gave birth to Ada on Thursday, February 1st, and we all returned home on Saturday.
For two short days Ada had both of her grandmothers in the house with her.
On Monday, February 5th, Melbourne's mother, Anne Jillian, passed away.
It still hurts, it still stings, and it still seems like a very bad dream. To have such joy be tempered so soon by such sorrow is a very hard pill to swallow.
I still don't know what to say.
Jill was a character - full of ideas and stories. A thinker and traveler with a sharp wit and a sharp tongue. I am glad that I knew her.
For a long time I didn't think she liked me. How could anyone be good enough for her only baby boy? But in the time that we spent together before Ada's birth we bonded in a way that I hadn't thought would ever be possible. It was so good to have a woman around to talk to during that time. I got to hear stories of Melbourne's birth and childhood, stories of her travels around the world. I'm profoundly grateful that I had that time with her.
At the same I am profoundly saddened that Ada will not get to hear the Welsh accent tripping off of her grandmother's tongue. I hope that the fact that we gave her a Welsh middle name will inspire her to learn more about the land of her grandmother. I hope that we are able to keep her memory alive.
We miss you, Jill. As your dear husband said so eloquently at your service, travel in peace.
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