I’d imagine her holding my son, smiling down at him with her glasses pushed into her hair.
Then I’d remember she would never get that opportunity.
Our baby would have only one grandmother: Levi’s mother, Diane.
Diane could be overwhelming, but she also had a sentimental side. She cried during family commercials, kept photographs from every milestone, and frequently talked about how long she’d waited to become a grandmother.
I wanted my son to have that relationship.
I wanted him to experience the affection and traditions my own mother would never be able to give him.
So when Diane offered to organize my baby shower, I agreed.
There was just one thing I asked.
“Please keep it small. I’d like our parents, siblings, and a few close friends. Nothing elaborate. Just some food, cake, and a relaxed afternoon.”
Diane smiled enthusiastically.
“Of course, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
