This little nugget of adorable will be here in NINE DAYS!
AND, she’s bringing her mommy and daddy with her!
I’m so happy, I swear I might burst!!
Birdie and Baby K back together again!
This little nugget of adorable will be here in NINE DAYS!
AND, she’s bringing her mommy and daddy with her!
I’m so happy, I swear I might burst!!
Birdie and Baby K back together again!
I’ve been living in the teeniest of bubbles for the past three weeks.
The bubble that exists around a brand new baby.
Being with my daughter for the birth of her daughter is a blessing. So much so that words actually fail to express my joy and gratitude.
When it comes to being helpful, I made sure not to overstep when it comes to Baby K. I’m making sure I’m not doing too much around the house.
We started out with me making sure she ate and was hydrated, I prepared her breakfast and lunch, provided her with healthy, lactation promoting snacks, and make sure she had enough water. I took a bigger responsibility in keeping the house in order. Cleaning and tidying, making sure she had access to what she needed.
In these three weeks, she has taken on more household responsibilities in addition to Baby K responsibilities. She’s finding her way in balancing running her home and menagerie, and being a mom.
I have not yet stopped doing the laundry, but we’re making plans on how to make that transition simplest for her.
I am acutely aware of how fortunate I am to spend this time with my granddaughter.
From diapers, burping, and baths, to books, songs, and snuggles, I am making the most of my time with her.
This sacred time will be lost on her, but I am making memories and storing them up.
As many times a day as I can manage, I say, “Birdie loves you, girl.”
My hope is that when Baby K hears those words over the rest of our lives, that it triggers something down deep in her, and she remembers this time in some sort of way.
I am actively in my feels.
I am beginning to prepare myself emotionally for my departure.
I consider sleeping through the night in my own bed, and the simple pleasure of being in the same physical space as YBW. Seeing my friends, and farmer’s market mornings. Really just living my regular life.
In returning to my regular life, I won’t spend every day with Thing 1 and Baby K. I won’t be comfortably enclosed in that precious little bubble. I won’t get to clean up mad blow-out diapies, or sing the lollipop guild song while I ‘dance’ Baby K’s legs around. I won’t be seeing her eyes roll back in her head when she gets sleepy, but won’t give in. I won’t get to hold her close and smell her sweet baby smell.
I won’t be able to spend time with my daughter, listening to her thoughts. We won’t laugh together, or finish each other’s sentences. I won’t get to watch her basking in the joy of her daughter, or experience that moment of joy when she shares her with me.
These thoughts weigh heavy on me. I need to acknowledge and attempt to accept them to ease the reality of parting, but not so much I’m missing out on the joy of being here.
I mean, how could I feel anything but joy looking at this darling little face!?!
I absolutely understand how blessed I am to be here with my daughter and granddaughter. To spend this sacred time with them. I’m grateful for the support of my precious husband in making this possible.
I am chock full of love.
I am chock full of joy.
I am chock full of gratitude.
My cup truly runneth over.
My friend Holly gave me a funny little book. It’s very tongue in cheek, written by a grandmother and filled with some silliness, some heartfelt things, and a fair amount of honesty.
In this book, she talks about how the mother of the mother always ‘wins’. How because it’s her baby having a baby, it’s different than her son having a baby.
And I get that. To a point.
However, I don’t feel any more or less ‘winning’ than Husband N’s mother. I mean, apart from the fact that I’ve been told I’m the one they’re going to rely on. To be perfectly honest, in my gut, it does feel that mother-mother connection has a strength the mother-father connection may not have.
But what do I know? I have two daughters, I truly cannot imagine what being the mother of a son would even feel like.
All that said, I feel like there doesn’t have to be a difference.
Only it turns out there is a difference. At least in the case of Baby K’s grandparents.
Thing 1 and Husband N took Baby K over her Nana’s house late Saturday morning.
(just to clarify, Nana is Husband N’s mom)
Nana came home from Savannah and got sick. And I mean sick, like, with sinusitis and a fever, and all that jazz.
(I’m over here like, thank fuck we didn’t all catch it when we were at the hospital together!)
So Nana hasn’t seen Baby K since the day after she was born.
Thing 1 and Husband N knew I needed to write an essay, and I’d been working on it but could use some uninterrupted time to finish it. They also knew if they took Baby K to her Nana, they could control how long the visit would last.
So off they went late Saturday morning so Nana could snuggle Baby K.
In the time they were gone I:
let the dogs out
finished my essay
switched and folded laundry
washed a handful of dishes
I was just about to reach out to Thing 1 to see if she would want a bit of late-ish lunch, but got distracted by the dogs needing some water. As I was carrying the water dish out, Thing 1 and Baby K rolled up the driveway. (Husband N stayed at his mother’s to get some stuff done.)
Thing 1 got the baby settled and I made lunch and we talked about their visit.
I asked if she slept or was awake. Thing 1 said she was awake most of the time and Nana snuggled Baby K the whole time. (Of course she did! I mean that’s all any of us want to do!)
And here’s where things get wonky for me…
She shared that Nana made some remark about how your mom probably never puts her down.
That got my girls hackles up a bit. But she remained calm and was polite when she explained how I was here making sure they all had food to eat, and doing the laundry, and making sure the floor was swept (y’all there are three dogs and four cats in this house, the sweeping never ends) and changing dirty diapers, and staying up in the night with them so she didn’t feel completely alone, and generally taking care of everyone until they can figure out how to do it all.
And here’s how I feel about that.
And you know what, I am absolutely savoring every single moment I get to spend with Baby K. I’m living in this sacred moment and also storing up that feeling for when I go back home and don’t get to see her.
But, I am truly, madly, deeply loving that I’m here with my girl. Stuffing her with calories so she can make milk to feed her daughter. Making sure she has help maintaining her household while she figures out how to be a mommy. Helping teach Husband N to trust his instincts, and how cloth diapers work. Getting up early with the baby so Thing 1 can rest as much as possible.
I’m here to actively love and care for my daughter, and by proxy, her daughter.
I am here to be of service.
Because that’s what the mother of the mother does.
Well, at least that’s what this mother of the mother does.
That’s not what Husband N’s mother would do. Not because she’s mean spirited, but because that’s not how she functions. She’s the hold the baby, talk ridiculous baby talk, give her too much candy and send her home with a sick belly kind of grandmother. Thing 1 and Husband N already know that. They’re prepped for it.
But here’s what I believe is important to remember. She has love to give. It may be selfishly motivated, but love is love is love is love is love, right? Nana is going to love Baby K the way she knows, the way she can. How can that be wrong?
I am so blessed to experience this love.
I have so much love to give, it bubbles up in my heart and overflows out into the world. I’m hopeful that my daughter and her husband are content having it poured over them at the moment.
But that’s not why I’m doing it.
This teeny girl next to me is waking up for a second time this morning. She’s ready for a clean diaper, some warm milk in her belly, and a big ol’ burp.
Birdie’s on it!
Turns out pregnancy wasn’t good for Thing 1’s heart.The stress of pregnancy depressed her heart’s ejection fraction enough to cause real concern. The solution was to induce early and keep a close eye on her heart.
It started out sounding much scarier than it ended up actually being. At one point we were told Thing 1 had a 50% chance of surviving labor and delivery.
Thing 1 has had some weirdness with her heart since she was a teenager, all the investigations left us with no diagnosis and more questions.
At least now we know something.
Her regular OB sent her to a high risk specialist OB in Savannah.
It has been a long time since I took copious notes to this degree.
We were immediately put at ease by the new OB. She didn’t see any reason why Thing 1 couldn’t deliver Baby K. She remarked that reading an echo cardiogram is oftentimes subjective, and referred us to a cardiologist in Savannah that same day. Another echo, and the most patient cardiologist later and we had an entirely new take on her ejection fraction.
(Ejection fraction is a measurement of how much blood the left ventricle pumps out with each contraction.)
He told us a normal ejection fraction is about 55%. Thing 1’s first cardiologist read her output as 35%, but the Savannah cardiologist read it as more like 45%. He said her ejection fraction is more than likely about 42%. And she was safe enough to labor and deliver her baby. The doctors decided to induce two full weeks before her due date to avoid more fluid build up in Thing 1’s body.
Thing 2, Husband N, and I were with Thing 1 during labor and delivery. I’ve never seen anything like my daughter’s labor. She slept through most of it, and never even broke a sweat during delivery! I was awed and delighted to be there when Baby K came into the world, but to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t keep my eyes off my daughter. I was truly amazed by her! Thing 2 teased me for my tears, of course she had her own tears, and both of us were entirely focused on Thing 1.
Y’all, my daughter is an absolute Goddess!
Thing 2 cut the umbilical cord like a total bad ass even though her face told it’s own squeamish story.
Baby K arrived Friday last, in the afternoon weighing in at 6 lbs 12 oz and 20 inches long.
The moment Thing 1 held her daughter, the world became just the two of them. Even though Husband N was there, Thing 1 couldn’t see anything but Baby K. And that was when I slipped away…
One week later, Thing 1 is healthy, feels fine and seems to be back to her normal heart self!
My momma heart is relieved and joyful!
My grandmother heart is in full on SQUEEE! mode!
She is absolute perfection!
That little bebe is super healthy and is scheduled to make her/his debut September 30. (Thing 1 is keen to push it till October. I’m feeling her on that even without explanation. Her due date was February 27 and I was hankering a March baby. I got what I wanted, I’m hopeful she will too.)
When I showed the photo to YBW I remarked the bebe looked a bit like a shrimp. Then I giggled and said, “Aww, little Shrimpy.” Thing 1 called me just a moment afterwards and I shared that nugget of conversation. She repeated it to Husband N and Thing 2. I heard Thing 2’s voice, “We have to call it Shrimpy!”
Thing 1 sent that photo this morning, so I guess we’re going with Shrimpy. I’ll miss saying ‘the bebe’, but it’ll be nice not to say ‘it’ all the time.
Thing 2 also said the bebe would be a Libra.
I’d already deduced that.
In our world, Libra is better than Virgo. We know some really crap Virgos.
What’s interesting about Shrimpy being a Libra is that Thing 1 is a Pisces and Husband N is a Gemini. Pisces and Gemini have a particular duality to them. Could be considered light and dark, or yin and yang. I most often refer to that duality as sweet Thing 1 and evil Thing 1 (or Husband N).
So with these double sided signs it might be handy for a third party to be one inclined to balance the scales. As long as that is tempered with the ability to manage that inclination. That’ll grow in time. Or, Thing 2 will knock Thing 1 and Husband N’s heads together so that bebe isn’t always walking a tightrope.
Thing 1 shared with me that she really liked the nurses at the ob practice, that one of them noted that Husband N and Thing 2 showed an abundance of excitement. Thing 1 is generally reserved when it comes to demonstrating her excitement. Thing 2 and Husband N are not remotely reserved about sharing their excitement!
I have this vision in my head of what it was like.
Thing 1 kind of like, ‘Yeah, but I love them.’
I asked her if seeing the bebe and watching it’s little heart beat made it more real to her. She replied she never doubted that it was real, mostly because there was no reason for her to be vomiting so much if she wasn’t pregnant.
I suspect I asked her because I was asking myself the same question.
Does seeing that little bebe in a grainy black and white ultrasound photo make him or her more real to me?
Interestingly, the answer is no.
My baby is going to have a baby of her own. However next level that is, it’s always been real to me.
As of today, she is 7 weeks 5 days along in her pregnancy. Only 32 weeks and 2 days to go! (Did I math that right?)
Between now and then, we’ll hopefully discover if Shrimpy is a boy or a girl. Thing 1 and Husband N will settle on a name. Thing 2 and I will plan and execute a kick ass baby shower. And a whole load of other not quite as cool and even some cooler stuff.
I’m planning to head to Georgia for part of spring break. Want to hug my girl. Want to hug her husband. Want to rub her little belly and let Shrimpy know we’re all about her or his arrival.
Y’all, we might (occasionally) be idiots, but we have great big love!
I’m having random “Baby Outbursts” all over the place.
YBW is beginning to get a kick out of tracking them. Luckily for me he’s super patient, because most of these occur in the least convenient times and place. And they look a bit like I may be having some sort of attack of palsy.
I experienced one yesterday afternoon while engaged in a text conversation with Thing 2!
We can get the bebe a load of Nats gear!
I shared that with Thing 1 in a phone call yesterday. First we oodgey-goodgey(ed), then I expressed my hope that people in Georgia wouldn’t be ‘mean’ to the bebe because he or she is a Nats fan. She laughed and said even Braves fans wouldn’t be ‘mean’ to a bebe…maybe to the parents, but she could handle that. Then we laughed again.
It’s tricky being a Nats fan in Braves territory, but she’s on top of it.
We’re idiots, but we have fun.
Another such outburst took place last night.
We went to dinner with M and J. M and YBW were fraternity brothers, and he and his precious wife are my most favorite of all YBW’s friends.
We four have a monthly date. Last night we were meant to go to this new (to us) amazing burger joint, only when we arrived, it was slam-jammed with folks and no place to sit. So we ended up at a little Mexican restaurant instead. (Even though Mexican is some of my fave food, I spent a great deal of time looking at Melt’s menu online and was more than mildly disappointed we missed out on burgers.)
It ended up OK, we enjoyed our dinner. We enjoyed each other’s company. I oodgey-goodgey(ed) about the bebe. And they joined right in on it!
We finally decided to leave the restaurant and head over to M and J’s house. YBW wanted coffee so we stopped off at the coffee shop before we got in the car. My random “Baby Outburst” happened in the coffee shop while YBW, J, and I waited for our coffees.
I realized if the bebe is a girl, I’ll be able to have things monogrammed for her!
Y’all this brought me much joy! Neither Thing 1 nor Thing 2 give a rat’s ass about their monogram. Now partly this is because they each have a repeating letter which makes a monogram look lopsided, and partly it’s because they went to high school surrounded by ‘basic white girls’ who plastered their monograms on anything that didn’t move.
And my girls are anything but basic.
While I absolutely adore my monogram, I am ‘preppy’ not ‘basic’. Because I actually lived through the 1980s. A point I’ve had to make to my girls more than once.
If the bebe is a girl, she too will have a repeating letter in her monogram. But I do not care. And she won’t care. She’ll be oblivious for the first few years of her life. And while we aren’t about gender norms for this bebe, I will sure as hell make sure she has something(s) with her monogram so she and I can be goofy, girlie, and oodgey-goodgey about it together!
If the bebe is a boy, well…he’ll still have something(s) monogrammed, but I suspect there will be less oodgey-goodgey(ing).
I’ll continue to have random “Baby Outbursts” because I honestly don’t think I can keep a lid on this much joy! Or perhaps when the newness wears off, I’ll just present “Baby Thoughts” in a less palsied looking way?
I can finally share the most exciting news I’ve ever had to share!
I’m going to be a grandmother!
I got a call from Thing 1 last week on Tuesday. I was walking out the door to go to school, she asked if I had a minute. I explained what I was doing so she said, she might need more time than that. Well, this got me worried. I immediately go into mommy-mode, is she OK? Is Husband N OK? Yes, yes everyone is OK she assures me. And all of the sudden I just knew!
I said, OHMYGOD! Are you pregnant!?!
She giggled and confirmed!
HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!!!
Of course I was sworn to secrecy. That makes sense to me, it’s her story to tell, and Husband N’s story to tell.
I was strictly forbidden to tell Aunt Sundance, and Aunt Sally in Charleston.
I was allowed to tell YBW. (Yeah, like that wasn’t gonna happen.)
However much I want to shout it from the rooftops, I made a promise to my girl and I’m going to keep it. She and her husband are entering into the trickiest place in life and need all the love and support they can get.
She’s since told her aunties and Husband N’s extended family.
Thing 2 found a way around the strict no-tell policy.
My Things have been talking to each other, and each of them to me even more so than normal. In one conversation, one or the other of them asked what I thought I might want to be called. I always said when I had grandbabies I’d want them to call me by my childhood nickname, Roby. I love the way it sounds when little children say it. Only now that I’m presented with a legit grandbaby, I’m not sure I’m feeling Roby any more. So, I’m made a list.
I mean of course I made a list…
Sent this to each of the girls. This one went to Thing 1, Thing 2’s had the word ‘thoughts’ written up the side.
My top three were Birdie, Lolly, and Mémé (we’ll choose to pronounce it may-may)
Thing 2 and Husband N voted for Mémé and Thing 1 and I are waffling between Lolly and Mémé.
My friend and mentor Jessica (Oh, I was allowed to tell her so she and I could confer regarding the most important parenting books Thing 1 and Husband N would need.) anyway, she suggested I go with Lolly and YBW could be ‘Pop’ and together, we’d be ‘LollyPop’! Gah! Cutest grandparent names EVER!
Only one problem…the Things’ father shared with me that he wants to be called Pop. Needless to say that put the kibosh on me being called Lolly. Sad face me…though I’m not sure I’m ready to cross it off the list.
YBW, first of all is almost every bit as excited as I am. Then the moment of pause kicks in and he says, “I’m not sure I’m ready to be a grandparent.” I figure it like this, he has two options, the first is to abstain from being this bebe’s grandfather, to which he said a resounding NO! The second option is embrace it and realize that even though we’re “only 47”, we’re completely ready and capable of being grandparents. That was his choice.
I keep asking him what he wants to be called, and asking his opinion of what he thinks I should be called. He’s struggling with that because in his experience, his first born named his grandmother by repeating a specific sound when he saw her. My experience is that with the exception of for the first two and a half years of Thing 1’s life, she called both myself and my mother Mommy, until she was finally able to say Grandmommy, she called everyone what they asked to be called.
I love how different families experience the same things differently.
Thing 1 has been struggling with morning sickness. And y’all, I mean struggling. It’s interesting, I was so sick with her from the moment I got pregnant twenty-four seven and for nearly six months. So much so, that twice I was hospitalized for dehydration and hooked up to an IV. Good times.
Sunday was a particularly bad morning for her.
Poor old Bear.
Sundance called me Mimi…I told her it’s not my name, so I don’t want her to get too attached to it.
Sally texted me last night now all I can hear is Laura San Giacomo’s voice.
My joy is honestly bigger than any joy I’ve ever experienced.
Marrying YBW with all the people we love most there to share our joy with us. And y’all, there was a room full of the greatest joy that day.
I wanted to be a mom from the time I can remember. Becoming a mom has brought me unbelievable joy. More joy than I ever expected, or ever deserved to experience.
But this. This is something else entirely.
My baby having a baby…
This is next level!
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