One of life’s precious miracles: Becoming a grammie

Being a grandmother for the very first time truly feels like witnessing a miracle.

Last week, my little, perfectly healthy granddaughter saw her first light of day.

As my husband and I raced to the hospital, thoughts came speeding into my mind in jumbled fashion. They were mostly questions that flew around my brain like an electric mixer on high speed.

“Who and what would she look like?”

“Would she have hair or be bald?”

“Would she be healthy?”

“What would her personality be like?”

One question really sizzled repeatedly:

“Oh. My. God. How would it ever feel to become a grandmother?”

The nurse on the maternity floor pointed the way to the nursery, where we could peek through the glass and see her for the first time.

I felt like a little kid pressing my nose against a toy store window and there, shock of all shocks, a short distance away, in the bassinet, was a living doll.

She had brown peach fuzz hair covering her head, which was about the size of a small grapefruit. Her little hands jutted up into the air, sporting perfectly formed tiny fingers.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I took big, gulping breaths. This wondrously new human being, fresh from the hands of God, was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

We walked to the room where our daughter, the new mama, was propped up in bed, a smile on her lovely face. I was so relieved to know she was okay and now a mommy herself.

Then my son-in-law pushed the bassinet into the room from the nursery. We could get a close up look at this newest family member, this little living, breathing doll baby.

I picked her up and held the bundle of softness close to me, studying every millimeter of her features. Her light-colored eyebrows twitched slightly on her tiny forehead.

Her lips resembled a sweet bow, similar to the top part of a heart shape.

Then she opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. They were pools of dark blue but stared intensely into my own.

“Oh my Lord,” I whispered. “She’s looking at me.”

It was a priceless moment for a new, first-time grandmother. I could hardly take a breath. More tears blurred my vision of this darling star of the hour.

How precious was this new and lovely, tender creature.

How utterly amazing it felt to meet the baby who, just a few hours before, was safe and warm in a watery cocoon inside her mother.

“Well hello there,” I heard my voice say to her, in almost a whisper. I didn’t want to scare her with a loud voice. “We’ve been waiting for you. I’m your grammie, sweetheart.”

Reaching down into the soft fluff of a blanket, I gently touched her hand.  Then I looked at her feet and the bitsy toes. Yup, they were all there.

All the while, the little darling cooperated beautifully without even a whimper of a cry.

I thought of how we would spend hours together, making cookies, reading story books and taking walks to discover the world of nature.

Part of me zoomed back to a time when her mom, our daughter, was the newborn baby. That time, too, brought tears and smiles and hearts filled to the brim with love. Suddenly I remembered all the hopes and dreams a young mother has for her child.

I’m happy to say many of them did, indeed, come true, and for that I will be forever thankful.

Looking at the new little miracle, I recalled how last January our daughter and her husband came to visit us. She handed me a beautiful card, which made me question the occasion.

Inside, she had simply written, “Congratulations, Grandma and Grandpa Guerrero.”

Congratulations? For what? Grandma and grandpa? What? A what? A baby? Shock of all shocks.

Then, as the pregnancy progressed, we all wondered if the baby was a boy or a girl. One  night, our daughter and son-in-law invited us to their house for dinner, along with the other set of first time grandparents.

Our daughter made a cake for dessert and we all knew the color inside would let us know the sex of the baby.

Let me tell you, I wanted to rip into that cake more than anything in the world but we had to wait until after dinner.

Both grammies cut into either side of the cake and there it was. Pink!  The new addition would be a baby girl.

Here she was, in sweet living color, looking like a dreamboat in my arms.

Before we saw her for the first time, I asked my husband if meeting her was going to make him cry.

“Oh no,” he said. “There’s no reason to cry. This is a happy occasion.”

So I looked over at him as he gazed down on the new baby. Tears filled and then flooded his eyes as he saw her tiny torso, wrapped in softness.

I guess the baby has a couple of real marshmallow hearts for maternal grandparents and, quite truthfully, that’s okay.

Every time I left the hospital, I counted the hours until I could return. Being a grandmother makes one’s heart yearn to be with the pint-sized treasure and makes the hands itch to hold her.

“We  have many happy years ahead, darling,” I said to her as I feel the warmth of her little head against my cheek. “I think I’m going like being a grammie.”

Posted by Susan M. Wicker Guerrero on October 4, 2012. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry