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Welcome to familywisdom.com, a website dedicated to informing and inspiring couples and families. Each week you will find a new article, story or essay about parenting, marriage or life. Suggestions for articles and questions to Ellen Terich are welcome. You can contact her at e.terich1@verizon.net |
REFLECTIONS OF A NEW GRANDMOTHER 2003-06-01 My grandaughter Grace will be born tomorrow, and tonight I am remembering the magical day her brother Sean was born, just two and a half years ago. In anticipation of another eventful moment, I reread what I wrote the day after his birth, and I'd like to share it with you now. Perhaps it will bring back memories of the day a beloved child or grandchild was born. These are days to treasure! 12:10 a.m., January 24th. A new being makes his way into the world. I stand in a corner of the delivery room, holding my breath until he takes his first. His dark hair and chubby cheeks hold me spellbound and then he lets out a feeble cry that evolves into a staccato "whaah - whaah - whaah" that tugs at my heart. I turn towards my beautiful daughter whose body cradled him for nine months and a wave of unanticipated feelings wash over me. "Hello, Sean," I say silently to my beautiful new grandson. I think of all the grandmothers I met over the past nine months. Every one of them told me what a joy it is to have grandchildren, and up until Sean's birth I did not understand that except in the vaguest intellectual way. Of course it would be wonderful to have a grandchild, I told myself, but I couldn't manufacture feelings for a child I had yet to meet. As I stand in the delivery room, watching a nurse wrap up my beautiful grandson, I understand. The feelings of love, pride and awe are overwhelming. This little boy is a part of me, I remind myself, just as I am a part of him. He wouldn't be here without me, my husband, and the daughter we created 31 years ago. Once again, just as when she was born, we are witnessing a miracle. After tears and hugs, my husband and I - new grandparents - leave the hospital to get some sleep, but sleep doesn't come easily. I watch the minutes change on the digital clock next to the bed. 2:00 becomes 2:01. Memories and thoughts overcome me as I listen to the rain which has begun falling outside the window. I remember the day my daughter awakened me with the news. "You're going to be a grandma" she gleefully announced over the phone. Only half awake, I was confused by her words. "Mom, did you hear me? she repeated. "you're going to be a grandma." I struggled for a proper response but all that came out was "when?" "This morning," she replied. "I'm going to be a grandma this morning?" I asked, wondering if this was one of those bizarre perimenopausal dreams I sometimes have. "No, of course not. I took a pregnancy test this morning and it was positive. I only found out this morning. I think the baby will be born in January." My daughter spoke the magic word that I had been waiting to hear ever since her wedding three years ago - "BABY" - and all I could do was stumble over words. What I really wanted to say was "that's the greatest news you could ever give me. I'm ecstatic! I'm elated. I'm so happy for you and Wayne!" But the truth is, when my grown children concentrated on careers rather than children, I had shoved the idea of being a grandmother into a mental attic. Now, because of a 6:00 a.m. phone call, I suddenly had to climb the stairs to open that attic door and my legs couldn't gracefully get me there. The rain makes pinging noises on the roof and the clock reads 3:10. I begin to think about my own grandmothers and wonder if I will be as special to my new grandson as they were to me. I was blessed to have two grandmothers for most of my childhood. My grandma Katie was 39 when I was born, my grandma Bernie 56. Grandma Katie was still raising my four year old aunt Sheila when I came into the world. She took us both shopping and to the library, made fried baloney sandwiches and let us sleep in on the weekends. Her biggest vice was drinking coffee throughout the day, which is probably why she watched television late into the night. In my memory, she was both fashionable and funny. She had a good figure, was meticulous about watching her weight, and wasn't afraid to show off her legs. But it was her bottomless reservoir of humorous sayings that I remember most. If I wanted her to play with me when she was having difficulty waking up, she'd say "Grandma can't walk right now, she has a bone in her leg." And when she misspoke she'd say "My tongue got twisted around my eye teeth and I couldn't see what I was saying." About five years ago, when my daughter was planning her wedding, I had fantasized about being a young and energetic grandmother like my grandma Katie. But that was before I turned fifty. Back then I imagined taking my grandchild out in his stroller while admiring onlookers oohed and aahed over what they thought was my child. Then, when I said it was my grandchild, they would of course tell me I was much too young to be a grandma. Sadly, those days are behind me. Now I look more like my grandma Bernie. Grandma Bernie was the quintessential grandmother. Her only career was motherhood - and eventually grandmotherhood - even after her husband died when her youngest, my mother, was only four years old. I remember her always wearing an apron over her ample body, bustling around the kitchen, and singing as she did her housework. She was a wonderful cook - I still have never tasted fudge as good as hers - who kept a well stocked pantry and a basement full of soft drinks for company and grandchildren. She was an expert seamstress, keeping my dolls well dressed with her own designs, one of which was a mink stole, made from the collar of her own mink coat. He home was inviting and comfortable, always filled with laughter and visitors who were attracted by her warmth and joviality. She wasn't above playing practical jokes on those visitors. Her hinged fork and dribbling water glass were always given to unsuspecting first time guests. But her best quality was her limitless generosity. If you admired something in her house, it inevitably became yours to take home. Would I be as generous as her, as fun loving and popular with my grandchildren? I hoped so. 4:00. The rain is easing up a bit but still no sleep. Wondering what Sean's personality will be like. Will he be funny like his mom and dad who met at a comedy writing class? Will he be serious, creative, intellectual, athletic? What kind of man will he become? Will he break hearts or have his broken? Will he rise to greatness in the world or make his contribution quietly by loving those around him? Will I live long enough to see? My grandma Bernie died when I was 16 and so never saw her grandchildren become adults. Will that be my fate, or will I have the honor of becoming a great grandmother, like my grandma Katie? I listen to the rain and wonder what this new family will be like. Will the father continue to encourage and support his wife as he did so lovingly during her pregnancy and labor? Will she always remember how gentle and caring he was then? Will he always remember what she endured to give life to their son? Will these two parents still cherish each other when times are tough, when they are beaten down by sleepless nights, temper tantrums and adolescent rebellion? Will they always remember this day and the joy they experienced as they welcomed their new creation? As the rain steadily picks up, I quietly pray that, in an age of so many broken families, this couple will forever nurture and protect the love that accompanies such a bright new life into the world. As I drift closer to sleep, I remember once again the moment of Sean's birth. Glistening and new, fresh from his mother's womb and the mind of God, this perfect little being grabbed onto my heart in a way I never thought anyone could. I hope he never lets go. |