Thursday, December 21, 2017

The Dirty Little Secret About Grandparents

There are so many times in life when people say to you-  Just you wait!  Just you wait until you stand on the rim of the Grand Canyon. Just you wait until you lay eyes on your first child.  Just you wait until you see Hamilton on Broadway.  The list goes on and on.  I have heard the same refrain from a number of friends about becoming a grandparent.

I remember a conversation a year or so with a wonderful theatre director/friend.  My daughter was newly pregnant and I was bemoaning a lack of focus in my life since leaving my company. I confessed to feeling a bit adrift.  She looked at me knowingly and said- just you wait.  Everything will change when that grand baby arrives. Okay. Sure. I guess. It's kind of hard to imagine it before it happens.  And then I recalled conversations with dear friends who were absolutely, positively smitten, over the moon,  in love with their grands.   This was not, mind you, just confined to women.  I've seen male friends equally nutty and deliriously in love with their next generation of small fry.

So now it's been my turn.  The day finally arrived when my sweet little Mabel entered our lives.  I  had the privilege of spending two months taking care of her.  To put into words the indescribable elation that I have experienced has been difficult for me.  I have shed more than my share of tears without really understanding why.  It is well documented that my heart lives just below the surface so it doesn't take much to send tears down my face. But this was something different than anything I'd ever experienced.  This felt biological or hormonal. I even asked friends if it was possible to have postpartum depression when you have a new grand baby.  I learned recently to my amazement that there is something very real that happens between mothers and their daughters and their babies.  There is an exchange of DNA between them that makes the experience truly biological.  It makes sense that a mother would pass down her DNA to her baby and that the baby would in turn share her DNA with her Mom.  I mean after all, she co-habitated inside your body for 9 whole months.  And then when your baby became a woman and had her own baby, the DNA exchange happened again, forever bonding the genetic thread from mother to mother.  This is not to diminish the power of parenting, no matter the circumstances, the gene pool, the family of origin.  When it comes to DNA exchange, fathers share their DNA too when they conceive a child. The difference is that they don't receive the DNA back from their children in the same way since they don't carry the baby.  I know, it all sounds a bit mumbo jumbo-ish.  This idea was shared with me by a friend so I have not researched it's veracity.  But it makes a lot of sense to me as it explains how profound the experience has been for me.


So after an intense two months of being the Granny Nanny, the full time caretaker for this morsel of deliciousness, I had to leave her.  I had to get in a car with my dog and drive back to Vermont, leaving her 2000 miles away.  The heartbreak was practically unbearable.  I have reflected on the fact that our society today has enabled us to move across the country, across the world to pursue our dreams. This often requires that we leave behind our family and friends.  There is something unnatural about that.  Of course I would never get in the way of either of my children's dreams and ambitions but when they start having babies, is it really necessary to be so far away?  Can't I just pop over occasionally for a hug and some play time?  Wouldn't it be great if we could visit and read books and sing songs? Wouldn't my sweet Mabel like to sit on my counter playing with measuring spoons while I bake some cookies?   Of course I am not alone.   There are legions of grandparents who drive away from their grand-children and weep.  They sit in their garages and weep.  They are depressed when the visits are over.  They cling to the photo stream and the memories and the videos of their grands.  And they are sad that the visits aren't more frequent.   There are some who are lucky enough to be close by.  They are the really lucky ones who jump at the invitation to come babysit, or to help out with all of the challenges of parenting and working and creating a strong, loving family.

The dirty little secret is that grandparents are really really sad when they say goodbye.  They yearn to be closer.  They weep.  It's good to know that I'm not actually going completely insane and to know that I am not alone.

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Anyone driving to Denver anytime soon?  Need a co-pilot?  Sign me up.








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