Becoming A Grandmother

Good morning…

During the last week of my summer break, I spent time in Athens, GA with our eleven week old grandson Charlie. Our son was away with work for four days and our daughter-in-law had a big, important job as a wedding florist, so I came into town to care for Charlie.

It all sounded like a great idea, until I arrived at their home, Kyler left for the first time since being a dad, and Chandler needed to get busy with her flowers. In those early moments, I realized that I was a stranger to Charlie. I was not his mom. I was not his dad. I didn’t smell, sound, or feel like anything familiar. So the little boy who is usually calm and content began to cry, cry, and cry some more. How was I to comfort him? If I was to actually become his grandma, I needed to invest quality time with Charlie, to figure out his natural rhythms.

So, over five full days, I learned how to sway in just the right way so his little eyelids would relax shut. I learned that he slept more soundly when I held him in the rocker rather than swaddling him in the crib. I learned that I was the first person, other than his daddy, to feed him bottles of breast milk. I learned that Charlie sleeps, wakes up hungry, then enjoys a short period of play before falling back to sleep, every three hours, all day long. I learned that he and I could peacefully pass time from 7:00 am to 7:00 pm on the days that that was needed. When it came time to leave, I learned that my arms felt really empty and my smitten heart craved more.

I was becoming Charlie’s “sue sue.”