My baby is three weeks old today. Three weeks. How can life change so much in such short a time? And how is it that I don't remember what life was like before him?

I saw a picture of a cousins baby on saturday. He looks like her, or more specifically, looks like her brother. It is said that P., especially when he has his chubby cheeks on full blast, looks like my brother. Another cousin has two children. One looks like his brother did when he was young (yes, brother down, I'm talking about you!). I've only seen one picture of another cousins baby, but I believe he looked like her brother. That's four out of six families on that side of the family - and I'm sure if I saw more pictures of the other children as babies, they'd look like their siblings and like them. It's hitting me how much we are carried through another generation through our children. It amazes me and makes me sad and happy at the same time.

My grandfather is dying. He is in palative care in his local hospital. It's a waiting game. I really want to go out there, but with a three week old, a drive across the province where we're in the car for 8 hours, not including food and feeding stops, well, it's not possible at this point. This summer we plan to go out, but it might be to late. I hate that I can't go. I hate that Poppy won't meet P. I hate that I know it's the best thing that I don't attempt to drive across the province for the sake of my son. I hate that chances are poppy is to ill to meet P. anyway and that he'd most likely not be allowed into the hospital room. I hate knowing all of this. And I hate how the older male generation of my family won't meet the youngest generation of the family. How poppy won't meet his great grandson. And how all my complaints are about me, and use the word I, when really, it's about what's best for poppy. Selfishness comes through in all of this caring I guess. At the end of a life, I guess you sum up your place in it and what you'd like to do before it's over, especially when all you really want is for it not to be happening.

What makes me feel so good is that even though he's so very sick and so very out of it, he has pictures of P. in his room. And this is after moving a few rooms in the hospital. He still has that picture of P. up and it makes me so happy to know that he cares so much.

My three week old makes people happy. Including me. Including my poppy. What more could you want?

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