Oh My Gawd Sodagirl!
Call me grandma, and I’ll cut you.

July 26, 2009


Is that the face of a grandmother? Say “Of course not, my gosh, there is no possible way you could be a grandmother,” or I’ll have to track you down and slap you. HARD.

A few days ago I got word from my oldest son, now 22, that he was going to be a father. And if he was going to be a daddy, that means I would become a grandmother. The thought was slightly frightening on a few levels, not the least of which, I.WOULD.BE.A.GRANDMOTHER.

Me? I’m too vain for that sort of thing if the truth be known. I still want guys to look at me and think, “she’s not bad,” or “I’d tap that.” Not, “hey, look, there’s granny.” Does that make a bad person? Probably, but I’m nothing if not honest.

There were other thoughts going through my head, too. I mean, was my kid ready to have a kid? He just graduated from his schooling, is the process of securing employment, and he and his fiance were about to take the first steps to buy a home, and now he has a baby on the way? Yikes. How would he and his girl possibly survive this? Of course, not lost on me was the fact that *I* had my son when I was just 19, and separated and living, once again with my parents. Not an ideal situation to be having a baby, but what’s done is done and there’s only room to go forward. That is exactly what I told my son. Yes, it was a shock to hear it, not totally surprising since history has a way of repeating itself in family situations, but still a shock nonetheless. Son a father? Me a grandmother? God help us. But more importantly, would I be a hot grandmother? I kid (sort of).

I did joke with him on that first day though of finding out, that if he or his fiance took the baby to Sears portrait studio or freakin’ Wal-mart, and not made me the baby’s official photographer, I’d be royally pissed. See? I can still muster up a load of laughs even in slightly and/or extremely upsetting situations. Not that having a baby is upsetting per se, but when your child is just heading into adulthood, and really was not planning on parenthood anytime in the near future and then pending fatherhood just sort of falls into the picture, it can be sort of boot-shaking.

It’s a weird position to be in really. One part of you, as the parent of a child about to become a parent, who yes, is a man, but in your mind, and heart, still a boy at times, is scared. Scared for him – will he know how to be a dad? Will he and his fiance be able to afford a baby (like any of us can really afford kids, if truth be told)? Will this tear them apart or bring them closer together? Will they name the baby Skyscraper or something else weird? OK, the name thing didn’t really cross my mind and I’m assuming they wouldn’t name their baby Skyscraper or Hermit, or HeyYou. Once again, digging deep for the humor. There’s another part of you that is excited, because oh.my.gosh. there’s a baby coming. Mixed bag of feelings.

The situation made me stop and think about my own parents. Did they have similar fears for me when I was 19 and pregnant and living in their home? I knew jack shit about babies. Yes, I have a younger sister and brother and remember when they came into our lives, but uh, they had a mother to take care of the important stuff, like diapers and other baby related crap. I just let them hang around with me, on occasion. Were my parents scared for me? Did they lay awake at night wondering how I would manage? Probably. But then there comes a time, when you put those thoughts aside – they’re still in the back of your mind, but you have to let the positive thoughts come through instead.

You have to let your kid know that no matter what, you’ll be there. There is no time for anger, or lectures on birth control, or saying stupid shit like, geez, what were you thinking? You don’t need a baby now. Doesn’t matter because when there’s a baby coming in a few short months, you have to get in the THERE’S A BABY COMING MODE. That’s what I did. Within a day, I was thinking of the day the baby would be born, what they would name the baby, how I had totally planned to make up a cute, fun title for myself. No Grandma, Granny, Nanny, or Nana for this chick. Oh no, I was going to invent something awesome because, uh, hello? Remember? I still harbor some vanity.

I pictured them bringing baby to stay with us for the weekend while they went away camping. How they’d fuss and remind me of feeding times, diaper changes, burping, bedtimem rituals, because I apparently don’t have children of my own. I’d smile and nod and tell them to have a great time, and baby will be fine. And when they arrived on Sunday to pick up the little guy (or girl), I’d say how much he/she missed them and they would smile – relieved I had taken good care of their munchkin and happy to hear they were missed by their baby.

I’d go shopping and buy cute things, spoil the baby because that’s what grandparents (insert cute made up name here) do, spoil their grandbabies.

Unfortunately, sadly, things aren’t going to work out that way. At least not at this point in time. My son told me today that his fiance miscarried. Yet another round of emotions.

Sadness because your child has had to experience something painful, those feelings of well, it wasn’t meant to be, which I do believe things happen for a reason, but that doesn’t make it less upsetting or confusing. Guilt, because for that split second after you heard the pregnancy news, you were thinking, gosh, can my kid really do this? Of course I believed he could do it, and knew he would step up to the plate. I was given the benefit of the doubt when I had him and I would definitely return the favor.

Obviously they were not expecting this pregnancy. But, after the inital shock, they decided to make the best of the situation and like me, had their dreams and plans floating around in their heads. Would they have a boy or a girl, would baby be a redhead like me and my son? Be born bald? Would they give him/her one middle name or two? So much to look forward to, and much work and responsibility, but so much joy to come as well. Now that pending joy is gone.

To my son and his fiance: This was not your fault. A miscarriage is not about fault. It’s something that happens to some of us (I’ve had a miscarriage and as son knows, I had a daughter who died at birth, too) and we may never know why. It wasn’t meant to be and as cliché as that is, it’s true. One day, when you do have a child, you will think of this time and the baby that wasn’t meant to be on this earth, but because of that pregnancy and miscarriage, a path was carved for you to have the child you end up with. Life works in mysterious ways. Make sure you take time to grieve and then look ahead to your future.

One day, I’m sure my son will be a father and when that day comes, I’ll be there. (But don’t call me Grandma).


1987: Me and son

Posted by Sassy @ 11:19 pmKids,Semi Serious9 comments  

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9 Responses to “Call me grandma, and I’ll cut you.”

  1. I truly am sorry for your loss… so much wrapped up in a tiny bundle and your post made me choke up. You summed it up perfectly hun.

  2. Thank you Mel. :)
    .-= Sassy´s last blog ..Call me grandma, and I’ll cut you. =-.

  3. Sassy I am so sorry, please except my condalences

  4. Appreciated, Betty, thank you.

  5. Aww, I love the picture of you and your son.

    Nope, no one is going to believe you’re a grandma, they’re going to think you’re mom. =)
    .-= Diane J.´s last blog ..One of Those (Murphy’s Law) Years =-.

  6. No one can understand how upsetting a miscarriage is until they have one… I know, I’ve been there. But you’re right about those tragedies paving the way for the child you’re supposed to have. I now have a wonderful 21 year old son, who I hope will someday make me a grandma.
    .-= CatLadyLarew´s last blog ..They Call Me Mellow Yellow Yellow =-.

  7. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss. Sending hugs to all and keeping them in my thoughts and prayers!

  8. i love you and you know i’m here. 100%.
    .-= Karen Sugarpants´s last blog ..My Mighty BlogHer Recap, With Canadian On Top =-.

  9. [...] 7. It’s possible to become a grandparent (providing you have children), but don’t call me grandma. [...]

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