I’m well into my fifties now. Between Bill’s side and mine, I am aunt to over thirty nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and great-nephews. I held many of these kids just days after they were born, some on the day of their birth. With those who are married I count their husbands or wives as my own, too, and the children of friends. So that number is even bigger.
The young ones call and ask for play dates. They rush to the door with wide arms on arrival and ask to please stay longer when it’s time to leave. The older ones turn to us for advice: where to go to school, how to interview for a job, how to breathe through a panic attack. They deliver their big news personally: a good report, a winning game, an award, an engagement, a new job, a baby on the way.
Most of the time, this is enough. But lately, there’s been a surge in baby news. Annilee and her husband are waiting for the call to come get the boy they’re adopting from Colombia, their first child. JD and his wife are trying for their second child. Last Tuesday, Shannon called to tell us she’s pregnant with her first.
Leanne will be a grandmother soon. Will it hurt? Will this be a whole other kind of loss? Will the edge of regret cut?
Women who are grandmothers say, “It’s the best. You have no idea.” I don’t think they mean it literally. They forget that I truly have no idea what it’s like to be a grandmother, and I never will. They’re caught up in their own joy. I try to stay caught up in mine.
They say, “I get all the fun of having the grandkids and none of the drudgery.” This part I know. It’s the joy I’ve had all along.
Leanne’s girls turn to her for preparing advice. They’ll turn to her for mothering advice. She’s the one who’s been through it.
She buys baby gifts for her soon-to-be grandchildren and helps paint and set up the babies’ rooms. I help some of the time. I buy gifts too. But I’m careful my gifts aren’t too many, my offers to help aren’t filled with my own needs.
Our grandmother, Nana, didn’t like the ways Aunt Lena competed for our attention. Nana got priority; she owned the grandmother territory. A grandmother gets less time with her grandkids than she did with her own kids. She doesn’t need a break like a mother might need. With grandchildren there is less time to share.
Wanting something deeply leaves traces, grooves for regret to grab hold of, even when the wanting is gone.
I’m not yet bitter or lonely. But I keep lookout on myself. The nurturing mothering in me holds. I turn my focus outward to all that I have and with an eye to where I can give without stepping on the territory of others.