A big anniversary and an even bigger announcement

On March 10, 2012, my mother’s mother who helped raise me died. And I felt like a fundamental part of me changed forever.

Two years later, as I write this, I'm pregnant with a daughter of my own. And I feel like a piece of my grandmother has made its way back to me and my mother...  

I still cried today. But they were tears of loss and gratitude. Pain and joy. Regret and hope. Because, well, life can be so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.  

Over the past few months, there have been several moments when my (ecstatic!) mom and I will be chattering happily about the baby and one of us will break down suddenly. We’ll tell the other one what she already knows: I wish Olga was with us, to see this, to meet the baby and to be known by her.

And yet, I’m not sure I’d be having a child if I hadn’t lost my grandma. I struggled with the decision for most of my 30s. But ultimately the biggest lesson in my grandmother's death was that I needed to live.  Stop overanalyzing and worrying and planning and instead, for the first time, truly allow for my life to unfold. 

That’s also what I’m trying to do with this post and the blog in general.  After months of hemming and hawing about recommitting to blogging  and then fretting over how to write about the baby, I’m finally just putting  words on a page: I'm pregnant and thrilled and terrified. And I want to document this incredible moment in my life with Mr. Diabolina, my mom and our loved ones. 

I’ll share all the fashion soon (I don't think you're ready for this jelly/belly or the baby's similarly expanding wardrobe!) But first I wanted to share the emotion – what I hope was at the heart of this "fashion" blog when it was a *thing*. 

Here are the first words I wrote about my baby girl several months ago. Today they feel like the perfect ode to my grandmother. May they make her smile...wherever she is  ;)

Her

She has always been a part of me. We are intertwined. Inextricable.

She's danced in the corners of my mind and at the edges of my soul for as long as I can remember.

I've never clearly seen her face or heard her voice. I've only caught glimpses of her in sun-drenched dreams – blinding flashes of her smile, how she moves in the world, the way she makes me feel.

I've never met her and yet I've always known she is smart and beautiful and strong and funny. I've always known she will drive me crazy and make me proud.

In the stillness, she has come to me, shown me that she is my destiny, my muse, my daughter.

She will teach me and heal me. She will humble me and save me.

She will unlock the woman I am meant to be...at last.