Inspired by Bombadee, I will share the following:
Growing up, one of the most important female figures in my life was my Grandma Byrd. I spent two weeks every summer with her, all family holidays were celebrated at her home. Since my childhood was marred by the drama of divorce, remarriage and constant moves, Grandma Byrd's was home to me. When I was pregnant with my first child, Grandma knew and celebrated with me. She was fighting ovarian cancer at the time, but she LOVED babies and looked forward to her first great-grand child. Sadly, I miscarried. She shared my heartbreak. Weeks later Grandma took a turn for the worse. She was no longer coherent and we waited for her to pass peacefully. I discovered, much to my shock, I was pregnant again. Grandma died before I could knowingly share my good news with her. At her funeral there were big, beautiful flower arrangements next to her casket. One stated "Mother", another "Wife", yet another had "Grandmother" on large yellow ribbon across it. Tucked in her hands was a flower with the words "Great Grandma" on the ribbon. Her name was Louise. My name is Jennifer Louise; my first daughter (born seven months after her death) is Abigail Louise.
Less than two years later, I found out I was pregnant with my second daughter. Grandpa Byrd, who was simply put…a grouchy old man, became ill. I was seven months pregnant at his funeral. His name was Everett Emerson, but everyone called him "Emmy". My daughter was named Emily Anne. We call her Emi. I often have thought her grouchiness was a curse from her namesake.
Many years later, the family had adjusted to life without Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. Jeff and I were excited (and very surprised) to learn I was pregnant with our third child. Looking back, I had the creepiest conversation in my entire life shortly thereafter. Jeff and I discussed jokingly how this time we would have to come with an original name. Everyone in the family is young and healthy...no one will die giving us a name to use. My beloved Uncle David, who took me to Sunday School every week when I was little and taught me to wear a seatbelt, was a healthy and strong man looking forward to his 50th birthday. One day he had a headache that wouldn't go away and went to the doctor. They found a brain tumor, he died 19 days later. I was 16 weeks pregnant at his funeral. My son's name is Isaac David.
Each of my pregnancies, all unplanned, has been scarred by the death of someone in my family. Please note that no others deaths have occurred in my family in the past 32 years.
Coincidence?
Less than two years later, I found out I was pregnant with my second daughter. Grandpa Byrd, who was simply put…a grouchy old man, became ill. I was seven months pregnant at his funeral. His name was Everett Emerson, but everyone called him "Emmy". My daughter was named Emily Anne. We call her Emi. I often have thought her grouchiness was a curse from her namesake.
Many years later, the family had adjusted to life without Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. Jeff and I were excited (and very surprised) to learn I was pregnant with our third child. Looking back, I had the creepiest conversation in my entire life shortly thereafter. Jeff and I discussed jokingly how this time we would have to come with an original name. Everyone in the family is young and healthy...no one will die giving us a name to use. My beloved Uncle David, who took me to Sunday School every week when I was little and taught me to wear a seatbelt, was a healthy and strong man looking forward to his 50th birthday. One day he had a headache that wouldn't go away and went to the doctor. They found a brain tumor, he died 19 days later. I was 16 weeks pregnant at his funeral. My son's name is Isaac David.
Each of my pregnancies, all unplanned, has been scarred by the death of someone in my family. Please note that no others deaths have occurred in my family in the past 32 years.
Coincidence?
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Do you believe in guardian angels?
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