Another Thursday, another secret. This one's not so juicy and not very fun, but it's life I suppose: My Oma (grandmother), the namesake behind Lovie's middle name, is dying.
It took everything in me not to break down into hysterics. I know I welled up, but I tried to just remain calm and listen.
I've cried many a night since then.
About a year ago my mom, who now lives with Oma, told us (me and my brother and sister) that Oma had congestive heart failure but that she would be OK as long as she didn't overexert herself. I was pregnant with Lovie at the time and it had been my dream that Oma at least be able to hold my child at least once- that I could have at least one picture of Oma with my own child.
She didn't come right out and say it, but she basically said that it's only a matter of time.