Granddaughters

When I had my first child, at the age of 26, I thought my heart would burst. I had always loved children but never realized you could feel such impact from one little bundle of flesh.

Three years later, I had a son, and again a wave engulfed me filled with amazement and love.

I never expected to feel like that again and had resigned myself to that fact years ago.

And then, my baby had a baby…Oh, my!!

My daughter called late one evening to tell me they were traveling to the nearby hospital…it was time to give birth to her child.

They wanted to be independent and knew the delivery time could be long so ask me to wait to come until she called later.

It didn’t do any good…I couldn’t sleep so I just stayed up and waited for the call that finally came an hour or so before midnight. It seemed things were moving faster than anticipated.

I drove quickly the forty-five minutes to the hospital, raced across the parking lot, almost ran to the elevator, and just as I stepped onto the floor, I heard a baby begin to cry down the hall.

I had stepped off the elevator just in time to hear her first cries!

I entered the room and my daughter was holding her baby. After a few minutes, she tired and ask me to take the baby. As I lifted her close, I could see myself and my daughter mingled together in that little round face and my heart melted.

To my total shock, that old feeling welled up inside me like a roaring lion. Amazed, I realized I could love that fiercely again after all and I was overwhelmed.

For the next hour, I stood talking with my daughter and son-in-law and slowly rocking a sleeping baby wrapped only in a blanket. I held her close to my heart in the same position I had once held her mother.

Once things were settled, her father came over and wanted to hold her again. Of course, I reluctantly handed her to her father, still wrapped only in a blanket.

Just as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, a very strange look came over his face. She wasn’t concerned that she didn’t have on a diaper. Nor was she concerned that her father was now wet from his waist down. She wasn’t even concerned that the laughter in the room was totally directed at her. She just slept happily on, unconcerned, and feeling much better.

I thanked her profusely for waiting until I had passed her on, as I narrowly escaped a dry cleaning bill. What a little sweetheart to look out for her Gramma that way!

Again, honoring my daughter’s wish to be independent, I stayed at home, near the phone, when they brought the baby home from the hospital.

All went well at first but around four in the morning, I received a call. The baby was crying and she needed advice. I offered some advice, also offering to come over. Advice taken and we got off the phone.

I had just gone back to sleep when the phone rang again. Now both the baby and my daughter were crying. My offer to come was then taken.

I dressed quickly and drove the thirty minutes to their home. Indeed, the baby was crying. She wasn’t hungry and was properly burped. She did not need a diaper change.

My daughter was noticeably upset and her husband was in the bedroom with Stereo Headphones on, trying to sleep, since he had to work the next day.

As I took the baby, I placed her in the same position I had held her in that first hour of her life and began to rock slowly. Immediately, she stopped crying and fell asleep.

All she needed were arms wrapped around her, unconcerned of her tears, and a steady swaying heartbeat.

I told my daughter to go to bed and I sat on the sofa with my granddaughter until sunrise, marveling at the bond we already had between us.

Who would have thought I could feel this way again?

By the next morning, after a little sleep, my daughter’s 'Mommie Instructions' kicked in and she took over with ease and assurance and I went home to get some rest myself.

The next few weeks were uneventful. A few problems with formula and similar things but my baby and her baby were happily on their way to discovering what would be a lifetime of love and sharing.

My granddaughter is now seven years old. From the age of seven weeks, she spent her weekdays with me while Mommie worked. And, yes, she never forgot what to do when I held her in that special way. She always fell fast asleep every time.

At the age of four, she began pre-school and was with me half days for that year which gave us a transition period.

Now, she comes over whenever she is out of school and Mommie has a Teacher’s Day at work, where she has taught Elementary School for twelve years.

And about once every six weeks, my granddaughter will say, “Mom, I need to spend the night with Gramma.” That’s our queue that she needs some Gramma Time and we schedule a night for us to pop in a movie, make popcorn and cuddle on the sofa together. Then we’re both good to go for a while.

I’m so glad she still needs Gramma Time because Gramma needs time with her as well.

Who would have thought one little bundle of flesh could impact your life in such a forever way…who would have thought?