The funeral

Well, so, my Grandma died on Sunday night. I did get to see her and say goodbye a few days before, except I didn't actually say "goodbye" but instead "I'll see you in the morning," which turned out to be inaccurate, because I left the next morning. She was sort of okay then.

I just got back from the funeral yesterday in NC. My Grandma was in a silver pitcher on a table, beside it was a picture of her with her dalmations and a votive. There was a bishop with a staff and a pointy hat on, and the family had to process in, like a wedding. The end was kind of like a wedding too, because the family all walked out together and cried and hugged, and then the guests came out and we made a receiving line. Before the funeral started the bishop gave the family a little speech about grief being like cooked spaghetti noodles that you have to wander around in. I don't think any of us really got it, but it was sort of funny.

It was hard to see my Grandaddy cry. I saw an obituary that said she loved animals, nature, and travel. My Uncle John said once she found a dead bat and put it in the freezer to show Isabella, one of my little cousins, who later asked "is Grandma a witch?" Everyone laughed.
The good part was that I got to see my whole family except for Christie, and we all spent the night in the cabin together enjoying each other's company. I showed Linda my birth log, who got grossed out by the phrase "rupture of membranes." She showed me her pictures from her missions trip to Guatemala.

Now I'm trying to catch up on a RIDICULOUS paper I should have finished by now, and go to clinicals in the meantime. When I go to clinicals I never think about my Grandma, even if it's boring. As of this week, we are halfway done with clinicals. I've got 6 babies. We're supposed to try for at least ten this semester. I hope my next ones are unmedicated, so far I've only had epidural moms and I feel like I've had it too easy. I do very little labor support because they just get the epidural and go to sleep until we start coming in the room a lot to ask them if they're having rectal pressure yet, which is apparently what it feels like when you're totally numb and the baby's head has descended far enough in your pelvis to begin pushing.

I felt sad today, and I didn't want to get out of bed and write a stupid paper on the nursing shortage and clean my room. But I did anyway. I also watched this terrible news special about that Shasta girl, did you hear about that? So horrible. The story would have been less sad if she had died too I think. It is okay with me to be sad some days, I just have to keep telling myself that a.) I won't feel like this forever and b.) God is taking care of me and I can trust him.

The picture today is totally unrelated to this post, so I want to explain it. I'm proud of it because it's an art project that I actually finished, a coffee table with ballroom dancing illustrations all over it. It was really fun to make last Summer.