Someone asked me what it feels like to be a grandma. Lots of people have asked me what it feels like to be so far away from my first grandchild.
I'm not sure of the answer to the first question. I'm a grandma? I love that little person as much as I loved my own children the first time I saw them. Yet he's not my own. I won't be the one making parenting decisions for him; I won't be the one handling the day to day difficulties of discipline; I won't be the one staying up at night wondering if I'm doing everything right for him. I just get to love him and pray for him.
The second question is easier for me to answer: it's HARD. I am not selfish enough to believe that I have it worse than anyone else who doesn't live by their grandchildren. My own children's grandparents were far away from their grandchildren for their entire lives. The past few weeks (he's almost a month old already!) have given me such an appreciation for what they experienced.
My extended family was close growing up. Holidays were spent with most of the cousins lined up in sleeping bags on the living room floor of my grandma's house. My grandma tucked us all in and put crocheted afghans across the bottom of our sleeping bags "just in case" we got cold, in the tiny house that was heated by dozens of people and a wood stove to about 100 degrees.
I didn't even consider it at the time, but looking back I can see how much my grandma loved having us all there. It was work for her. She made big dinners (usually a full Thanksgiving meal, no matter the occasion) and found places for everyone to sleep and indulged our wishes for sack lunches to take on horseback rides and homemade Barbie clothes on rainy days. When she finally sat down there was usually someone right there with her. She loved it.
We moved away from my parents when the first baby was 5 months old. Except for one year, we have not lived closer than a 9-hour drive from any grandparents since then. Oh, we've gone back to visit many times and my children have wonderful memories of visiting all of their grandparents, but it wasn't the same as what I had. And for my mom, it certainly wasn't the experience she had when we were growing up close to her parents. I know some of that heartache now.
Now we have a grandchild. And we live 4000 miles away from him. How my heart longs to tuck him in at night and make him toys and games and read books to him and watch the delight on his face as he discovers his new world. I am wondering what role we will play in his life and wondering just how to stay a part of his life even while we are far away...
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