It was a really nice surprise.
Vincent was incredulous. It was the cutest thing to watch him hug her in awe because he thought she was still "on the airplane." That's what he considers Florida, I guess... an endless string of being on an airplane. Ha ha!
Anyway, while she was over, we got to talking about the anniversary party I had tentatively tried to put together. I had briefly discussed via FB messaging why John and I wanted to do one, but when she asked me what spurred on a 7 year party, I felt like it was time to come clean.
I wasn't sure how to start the conversation at first. I felt awkward and embarrassed, but I wanted to be honest with her. I mean, how the heck do you start that conversation?
So I just came out with it. I told her we had gotten pregnant but miscarried over Alliya's birthday weekend. She was surprised and didn't quite know what to say, either.
I kept wanting to say Myla's name, but I couldn't bring myself to taste the words in my mouth. It was hard enough explaining what had happened... I was afraid that saying her name aloud would be too much, so I kept that to myself. I did, however, refer to her with the feminine pronoun, and I know my MIL caught that.
Now that she knows, I feel like everyone who "should" know does know. John, my mom, his mom, my two closest friends, my one sister, and likely John's dad through my MIL.
I think she understands now why I tried to do this when (and as quickly as) I did. I admitted I was trying to force some happy into an otherwise miserable span of time, and I would rather focus on something entirely separate to celebrate rather than mourn.
As I said in plenty of previous entries, I love my MIL. She's a genuinely nice person and loves me as her own daughter. She's always gone out of her way to make me feel welcome in the family, and I appreciate that more than she realizes.
And now she knows that Myla is waiting up in Heaven for her one day, too.