Women I had never met rushed past me to greet Diane.
Several guests embraced her, congratulating her on becoming a grandmother.
Pink and blue decorations covered the tables, and beautifully arranged centerpieces stood throughout the room.
But the photographs caught my attention first.
Everywhere I looked, there were framed pictures of Diane holding Levi when he was a baby.
One showed her in a hospital bed with newborn Levi.
Another showed her celebrating his first birthday.
There were pictures from his childhood, school years, and family holidays.
Behind the dessert table hung an enormous banner.
**GRANDMA’S LITTLE BLESSING.**
I stood there staring at it.
My first reaction wasn’t anger.
It was sadness.
My mother would never have photographs like those with my son.
She wouldn’t be there for his first Christmas or his first birthday.
She would never get to hear him call her Grandma.
Diane was going to experience all those wonderful things.
And I had wanted to make room for that happiness.
So when she hurried toward us, beaming with excitement, I forced myself to smile.
“There you are!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t everything beautiful?”
I nodded.
“It’s certainly a lot.”
She laughed.
“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”
Before I could respond, she pulled me toward a group of women.
“Everyone, this is Mel!”
Several guests smiled politely.
Then Diane laughed and added,
“And here’s the woman carrying our little miracle!”
A few women chuckled.
I smiled awkwardly.
But before anyone could ask me about the pregnancy, Diane began talking about how wonderful it felt to become a grandmother.
The conversation shifted entirely toward her.
One woman asked me to move aside so she could photograph Diane beside a centerpiece.
I moved.
Another congratulated Diane on surviving Levi’s difficult delivery decades earlier.
Diane launched into a long story about how exhausted she’d been after giving birth.
For nearly twenty minutes, I listened while everyone discussed her experiences as a mother.
Nobody asked how I was feeling.
