This phrase has never been as real for me as it is right now having just dropped my mom off at the airport to fly home a few hours ago. The freshly bathed, recently fed, warm bundle strapped to my chest in her sling is a constant reminder of the decision I made to follow the man I cared deeply for to England and eventually marry him and have a child with him. Mr. Y in E thought it our much better than me and asked on multiply occasion when we discussed trying for children and also while I was pregnant if I was OK with the fact I was having a baby so far away from my family. Intellectually I knew it would be hard but in much my fashion of late I just figured I would soldier on, anything less would be admitting defeat. I never allowed myself to consider the emotional aspect of my choice. Plus I knew no matter where we lived here in England or in the US we would be "depriving" one set of family from being near Madame.
So this afternoon when I put Madame in her cot and wound up the mobile Grandma Traci got her so I could run her bath, she cooed and watched it go round, I bawled. I cried feeling like a horrible daughter for producing such a lovely grand daughter for my parents but doing it thousands of miles away in a foreign country. This is one choice that living with the consequences may sting for a very long time.