I'm A Nana In Waiting....But I'm A Mother First

Daughter's Baby Shower

I sit here not knowing how to express or articulate the myriad of contradictory emotions whirling around within me. I am happy, anxious, excited, worried, giddy, nervous and impatient to name but a few. No wonder I am exhausted! The reason for this mish-mash of emotions, my Baby Girl is on the verge of delivering her first child. My first grandchild!  From today on I will refer to first grandchild  as Little Sir on this blog.

Last week Husband and I went out to dinner with the very happy, proud expectant parents. Daughter beamed with the healthy glow of expectant motherhood. Conversation naturally turned to the upcoming event and Father-to-Be turned to me and asked, “Are you excited!?!” I was a bit taken back by the question. I stuttered a bit and stammered my affirmative reply. Father-to-Be looked a bit disappointed by my stammering response. I attempted a redo, but alas it was too late.

So why the insipid reaction to said question. I will tell you why. I am excited my Girl will very soon experience the sheer joy and bliss of a child of her own. I can’t wait for her to experience the endless well of love that will be unleashed in her when she holds Little Sir in her arms the very first time. I am also giddy with excitement over the prospect of a baby in the family again. I love babies! Some would say I am addicted to babies! So why the hesitation…… Well as a mother I have an inherent need to protect my offspring.  I know this will spill over onto Little Sir....but he is not here yet!

So let’s start with Labour. I would do this for my Girl if I could. But since I can’t I have been bombarding Heaven’s Pearly Gates with fervent prayers and novenas! Asking, well begging actually that her labour be as easy as possible. Hopefully God has been paying attention to the gnashing of my teeth.

We are going to be at the hospital with Daughter. Husband asked me if I was going to be able to watch Daughter in labour without crying. I threw him a Tundra stare in response.  Don't tell him, but you know he might be right. 

The labour is not my only concern. I worry about how the ground will sift beneath her, when she arrives home with Little Sir and the weight, the enormity of responsibility takes hold. I remember peering into the Moses basket at my first Little Sir and my whole body shaking with fright. What if I did something wrong. I know my Girl is not me. She is a very capable, confident young woman, but still I worry. I want to wrap her up in a bubble of love and protect her from the anguish she will feel if Little Sir suffers from colic and she spends hours pacing the floor unable to ease his discomfort. Or the tears she will shed as he wails due to that awful scalding teething rash on his bum. When he has his first sniffle or runs a fever and she is beside herself as to how to soothe him.

And later when Little Sir decides it is time to walk on his own two feet and topples over or careens into the corner of some piece of furniture. And later again when she brings him to school and he wails as she pries her coat tails from his little hands with a breaking heart. Or maybe Little Sir will  turn with a grin and wave her goodbye and her heart will break because he doesn’t need her all that much anymore.

This is why I hesitated when answering Father-to-Be’s question. Because in my heart Daughter is still my Baby Girl and protecting her has been my mission since that wondrous day I first held her in my arms.