I had no idea that becoming a grandmother would become a significant platform for my growth and learning. Isn’t grandparenting all about love and spoiling your grandkids? I believe so, but we still bring our own baggage on this journey, even if unconsciously. Until it’s not. My gift this holiday was unpacking a rather large “suitcase” that I had been lugging around for the past 33 years, when my first son was born. The problem was, I didn’t know this piece had gotten stuck in my life’s travel plans until my 18 month-old granddaughter, Penelope, was born to this son.
It was an auspicious beginning. My daughter-in-law bestowed upon me the great honor of inviting me to be in the delivery room with her mom and my son. We all held our breath together waiting for her to scream her welcome to the world, and all sighed with relief when she did. We all took turns holding this precious bundle of life, making sure everyone got equal time. As if we could ever get enough.
It never occurred to me that time with her could become an issue. But it did. Shortly after Penelope waltzed into my heart, a dear friend sent me a plaque that read, “When a child is born, so is a grandmother.” In Penelope’s case, three grandmothers were born that day—my son’s mother-in-law, my former husband’s wife, and me. I quickly learned that new mothers rely on their own mothers for comfort, support, and information. That means more time together and with the new baby. I get it. I did the same thing. I wouldn’t have ever considered asking my mother-in-law for help in tackling breast-feeding for the first time. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; it was just so intimate to position my body for suckling that I only wanted the help of my mother. As it was, it took me a week to get it right.
I remember those days of so much more to work on getting right, from swaddling to diaper changing to baby baths in sinks. If I had brushed my teeth and combed my hair by 5pm each evening, I thought I had accomplished something.
At the time, my mother-in-law lived 3,000 miles away and it never occurred to me that she might want to come spend time with us, celebrate with her son and me, and get to know her grandson. It just wasn’t on my radar because I was in getting-it-right survival mode and my mother was my go-to resource. However, now that I’m a grandmother, I’m sure she thought about it every day or at least every other day.
Because I do.
And yet, in the famous words of Oprah, “Here’s one thing I know for sure,” worrying about the time each grandmother gets with her granddaughter does not need to be one more thing to add to my daughter-in-law’s growing pile of managing many new responsibilities. That will come in time and my belief is that all three of us will have a role in loving and supporting her and each other. At the very least, I want to be a grandmother who gives with no strings attached, and who can make requests and accept the answers with peaceful calm and no drama even if it’s not what I want to hear. Unconditional love is a very special gift to give. I know of it because I received it so gracefully from my mother and father.
What I didn’t know was how much I squandered that grace until this past Christmas. My mother died 13 years ago on December 28, and each year I think of her on that day and say a prayer of thanks for her. Perhaps because I missed not sharing the holidays with my granddaughter this year, I began to think of decisions I had made in the past that had prevented my mother and my father from seeing their two grandsons at Thanksgivings and Christmases. We moved to Montana when my youngest son was in second grade and we didn’t get back to Missouri very often. They let us know they missed us, but never pressured us. I let my work schedule keep their grandsons from seeing them as often as they would have liked, and again they let us know they missed us, but didn’t pressure us.
I see so much more now than I did then, now that I am a grandmother. How could I have missed that all those years ago? It wasn’t on my radar because I let the busy-ness of life get in the way. I looked at my choices as a young mother who also worked because I wanted to, then because I had to, and then because it gave me value, or so I thought. As I realized this, I found myself feeling painfully sad and ashamed that I had been so selfish with my time and my sons, even if unconsciously.
In that very moment of upset, when I gave this wound a voice, I found myself saying, “No more.” Pain is inevitable; suffering, however, is optional. And then, the most beautiful sense of generosity bubbled up in me, immediately offering me a path out of suffering. It’s not too late to create another possibility, another story of time together. After all, my father is still alive and very healthy and I have a new clarity of generosity and commitment. I can spend more time with him and my stepmother, and find the times that work for my sons and their families. It’s not too late.
And so, I thank you, Mom, for helping me see how to unload this heavy load through the loving heart of a grandmother. In 2013, I am taking on generosity in spirit and love. Time will be my currency to give, from the wallet of unconditional love.
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