I was watching my baby with her baby the other night. What a powerful moment.
For those of you who don’t know, our daughter Sarah and son-in-law Steven had their first baby last Sunday. Sarah was our first-born. That was 1989. I had hair.
It was really different last week. We were at the Portsmouth Naval Hospital in Portsmouth, VA. You have to show your ID to an armed guard at the gate even to go to the maternity ward. “Hang on. Let me move the stuffed bunny so I can get to my wallet.”
Once there, Priscilla and I were able to go into the Labor Room until it was showtime. Then it was out to the waiting room with the other grandparents of other babies.
Those few hours in the Labor Room were weird. I watched my daughter have contractions and I felt TOTALLY USELESS.
I had been through this four times before back in the late 80s and into the 90s when our four children were born so I knew a little about what to expect.
I was probably useless back then too but at least I felt like I had something to do. I had to provide ice chips, encouragement and remind Priscilla to breathe because, you know, she wouldn’t know how to breathe in and out without me.
Watching Sarah was totally different. I wasn’t the expectant father. There was someone else there to get the ice chips, offer encouragement and Sarah seemed to breathe okay even without me.
Not to sound too sappy (Who am I kidding? This is a sappy blog), this was my little girl! I’m supposed to make the boo boos go away.
This was the girl who would always have a scraped knee or something in the summer. My wife and I had a plan whenever they fell: Don’t look at them. If they’re really hurt they’ll cry or call out for you. But, if they see that you saw them, they might milk it for some attention.
This was the girl who broke her wrist after a swing set accident when she was 8. She came running in to me screaming, “My arm’s falling off!” That’s because the bone had broken and it felt like it WAS falling off. I held her arm and carried her to the minivan while my wife drove.
This was the girl who sprained her ankle, a few times, playing softball. It seemed I always carried a backpack with Ace bandages, ankle braces, and ice packs. Along with hair elastics and earrings from all the other girls who forgot to take them off.
And there she was the other night holding Liam. She was happy. He seemed happy. Or maybe he was just hungry.
You’ll be happy to know that when I got to hold him he stretched out his long legs and filled his diaper. That’s what I’m there for.
I was down in Virginia earlier this year when Sarah had just found out she was expecting. We were driving somewhere when, out of the blue, she asked, “Dad? Do you think I’ll be a good mother?” I don’t remember what I said but I’m sure I came out with something clever.
Watching my baby with her baby —– I have no doubt.
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