Two weeks ago, my mother-in-law had a sore back. She was having a little trouble lifting my son out of the pack-and-play.
Today, she's in a wheelchair, and the doctors tell us she has metastatic bone cancer all over her body.
This is my husband's mother, a woman born to be a grandmother. She bakes pies like it's nobody's business. She grew up on a farm in a small town in Texas, the youngest of five kids and the only girl. She's a health nut and tough as steel.
My husband and I want to see her hold our new baby in the spring. But now, nothing is certain.
Nothing is certain.
Conclusion: I need to stop complaining and bake my boys a pie.