Many of my peers have already become grandparents. I’ve gracefully viewed their photos and videos. I’ve oohed and ahhed at the right moments and have truly adored watching them bubble over with joy as they watch their grandkids grow. I have two grown children, and I’ve been hoping I’d be a grandma soon as well, but I never dared voice that wish too loudly, as I know that parental pressure is not what makes babies.
It’s been difficult at times. I remember my own dad yearning for a grandchild just a month or two before my sister announced her first pregnancy. I was struck by just how much he wanted it. Now I understand the feeling.
My daughter called me a couple months ago. The call dropped mid-conversation, so I called her back a little later. I felt she needed to talk to Mom, and I usually make those calls as I drive home in the evening. During our conversation about work, she texted me a photo of a book and positive pregnancy test with a note, “So…I gave this to Zach.” Imagine the reaction of fellow shoppers in Walgreens as I stopped suddenly, “Wait…what? Oh my God, really?” I looked over at the clerk behind the register as I wiped away tears and kept walking. She smiled slightly and shook her head as she went back to checking an order—she correctly guessed what my outburst was about. She told me later when I approached the counter that she had three grandchildren. I guess it takes one to know one—grandma that is.
I was sworn to secrecy until she could send an announcement package to us, because she still wanted to surprise her step-dad and other parents. I reluctantly agreed, knowing that the surprise would be worth recording when my husband opened the gift. The funny thing was, only a couple nights before we received it, he made a comment about becoming grandparents that was reminiscent of my dad’s, “I wish I was a grandpa” yearning years before.
The day the mail carrier brought the package, I texted Jeff to bring it inside.  I rushed home from work that night and tore open the package. She’d sent me a book to fill with stories and letters to this precious little bean, to be opened in the future. The T-shirt she sent for Jeff was a perfect salute to his off-roading hobbies as well as an obvious declaration. “Some GRANDPAS play bingo. Real grandpas drive mud trucks!” When he opened it, the smile only dimmed a little when I told him we had to keep this quiet for a couple more weeks—until her first doctor’s visit.
Two more weeks went by with me quietly perusing Pinterest postings about prenatal care, prepping for babies and positive grandparenting. If it weren’t for internet research, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from shouting out the news.
Fast forward a couple months, and I’m pausing on Mother’s Day to reflect on my baby girl having a baby girl. She learned the gender just this week, and we’re very excited. It’s difficult to see her progress, as she’s hundreds of miles away, but it now feels more real. I can buy things instead of just admiring cute baby items in the stores.
My crafting gene is getting itchy, but I know that Samantha has one as well. She’ll soon be making plans for decorating a nursery. We’ve compared notes over phone calls and Pinterest posts, but I know that Sam has her own style. I have to step back and watch the process, reminiscing the days when I was sewing up crib skirts and diaper holders that matched the wallpaper covered in rainbows and birdies I had found. Her grandmother helped me paste that paper the best we could to the very crooked walls, above paneling that I painted white, as a wainscoting. I even created a stuffed cloud and rainbow wall hanging. Of course, this was all before I knew she was a she.
I realize now that I don’t have photos of that nursery, but I can still picture it. I can recall rocking her on the hand-me-down chair she now owns, singing softly along with the lullaby cassette tape we bought and wore out playing each night as she drifted off to sleep. It was a small room tucked under the roofline of our old, first house, with a small deep-set window where I always set a couple stuffed animals. And now, the little one who lived there is looking to create her own nest.
Gone are the days when I wondered who she would become. Gone too are the days we both suffered growing pains between mother and daughter. It’s now time to look forward to meeting my granddaughter. I recall introducing Sam to the sky and the sun as we left the hospital for home that day long ago, and I know she’ll soon experience the same connection to previous generations that I so keenly felt when she was born.
On this Mother’s Day, my wish for my daughter is that she’s able to record these days filled with expectancy. I know that she’ll have them etched in her mind, like my memories are in mine, but I find myself wishing I knew more about how my grandmothers and my mom felt during those times, and I wish I had more of my own stories on paper. There are threads sewn into the fabric of our family history that are hidden from view, like a seam that holds the pieces together, but it’s more beautiful when there are also stitches embroidered on the front for all of us to see years later.
Happy Mother’s Day to my family and friends who are celebrating generations today. This will be my last one as “just” Mom. Next year I’ll be Grandma, and I’m sure looking forward to holding that title.