I have always wanted to be a mom. My professional goals were always shifting. Heck, they still do. But one thing that never wavered, was my desire to be a mother. When I met Brian, it was a no-brainer to marry a guy that already had kids. It was full speed into motherhood right out of the gate. We added 6 more little ones in the next 9 years. I spent over a decade of my life pregnant or nursing. That was followed by years of babies and toddlers. It went by so fast, but it also felt like we were going in slow motion. I very distinctly remember being several months pregnant with Hannah, sitting on the edge of my bed sobbing because 7-month-old Isaac wouldn’t go to sleep. I was convinced that I would never sleep again. There were endless days of filling up sippy cups and changing dirty diapers. I spent countless hours sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for a little tinkle in a potty chair. Reading and re-reading the same children’s books. Watching and re-watching the same little kid shows. There were times when it felt like I was living out the movie Ground Hog Day featuring Dora and the Wiggles.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved being a mother, even in the midst of the monotony and insanity. I adored the chubby little hands that patted my cheek while I was rocking a little one to sleep. The toothless grin of a baby was my kryptonite. And don’t get me started on the power that a baby belly laugh still has over me. But a lot of the time it was hard to remember the blessing that those little moments were. When you are drowning in laundry and dirty diapers, it is easy to feel overwhelmed and exhausted. And that’s ok. It’s even normal.
Fast-forward many, many years…Those same little kids are now adults. If you are blessed like we were, they find the person that they want to spend the rest of their life with. They get married. And the two of them begin a little family of their own (just 99 steps down the sidewalk from you!!!).
On Christmas Day 2020, Jake and Sarah asked Brian and me to come to their house so that they could give us our Christmas gift. They handed us a little box and when I opened it, there was a positive pregnancy test in it. I cannot even begin to tell you the emotions that whipped through me. So much joy and excitement along with a tiny bit of worry. Knowing what the next 9 months would likely be like for them, but at the same time having no idea. It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time, much like it had been like every time we had a positive pregnancy test.
I immediately started to stock up on diapers. My goal was to have 1000 diapers to gift to the kids when the baby arrived. This was something that the mother of my friend had done and it was such an amazing idea, I swore that if the Lord ever blessed us with a grandchild, I would do the same thing. I was thrilled to start stockpiling diapers.
TJ Maxx became a very dangerous place for me to go. There were so many sweet baby outfits, tiny socks, and soft baby blankets. Brian jokingly asked if he needed to add a budget line for grandkids to our monthly budget. Ummm yes. Why would that even be a question?
I knew what to expect with the arrival of a baby. Come on! That was my sweet spot. I might not know a lot, but I do know babies. You don’t know how to swaddle a baby, I am your girl. Wrap that baby tight like a burrito. You have a colicky baby that won’t calm down, hand him over. I know just how to bounce him to sleep. Horrible diaper rash, I know just the cream. (Bordeaux’s butt paste, by the way.) Like I said, I know babies. It was my thing for years….
But there were a few things that I didn’t know about being a grandma. I had no idea how nervewracking it would be to wait for that phone call from the hospital to officially announce the arrival of the baby. Not to mention the restraint that it took for me to sit by and wait for them to call. The only thing that kept me at home was the stupid COVID protocols. No visitors were permitted at the hospital. We had to wait for them to bring him home from the hospital before we could meet him. I was not expecting the rush of emotion at seeing my grown son gently rock his tiny son to sleep, somehow knowing just what the baby needed. And I knew that I would be ecstatic when I finally got to hold that little nugget, but I was not expecting the overwhelming flood of emotion. So much love, so much joy, just so much…feeling. He was tiny and beautiful and perfect. I was no longer just a daughter, sister, wife and mother…I was now a Nonni. What a gift!
What does being a Nonni mean? It means never having to say “No.” I mean, I do say no, but verrrrrrry selectively. It means Friday afternoons curled up in my chair with my favorite little guy watching dirt bikes on repeat. It means a chubby little hand wrapped around my fingers as I am led to the pantry where I make sure to always have packs of gummies on hand. It means dragging out the Little People that I have stored away for the last 10 years. It means all of the best parts of having a baby around, but still being able to sleep all night long. (Or at least as well as this menopausal craziness will allow me to sleep .) It means watching my husband, now known as Pops, soften when our little guy grins at him. Most importantly, it means having one more sweet soul to love.