gramma

I don't know if I'll call myself gramma, savta, bubby but I will be calling myself one of those come this July when my eldest daughter gives me a grandchild.

I knew about this for a while, but was sworn to secrecy, even from my children, until the 16th week hit.

When she took her pregnancy test in October, she told me she thought she was pregnant, her period was like 8 hours late or something ridiculous like that. Our family doctor had been on sabbatical for a year, and had no idea she had gotten married in the interim. When he walked in with the results, his face looked gloomy.

"I don't know if this is good news or not"

"What is going on?" asked my daughter.

"Well, you're pregnant" he said sadly.

"I'm SO HAPPY!!!"!! she shouted at him.

It was his turn to go "Huh?" and then she told him it's ok - she had gotten married in June and his mood definitely lightened up.

Then it was absolute torture for me not to tell a soul. Not even Hubby, though I managed to persuade my daughter to let me tell him 3 weeks later. I told a best friend at work, whom I know kept her mouth shut. On Thursday, I brought in to work a lumpy photograph of the fetus taken at the latest 16-week ultrasound. Its head, arms and chest were clearly visible.

"Would you like to see a photo of my grandchild?" I asked everyone and they all raised their eyebrows like "WTF?" I explained it's 16 weeks in the making and that's how everyone at work found out...

I thought of hiring labor coaches and my daughter asked me what was doing about that.

"Honey, I really think labor coaches are for women who don't have their mothers around. I'll be happy to massage your lower back, to breathe with you through your contractions and give you ice to suck on."

She thought and remembered the time I took her to the hospital nearly 15 years ago when she was 8 years old to watch me give birth to her brother. She remembered giving me ice too. Now the tables turn...

But she still worries and asked "How will you know what to do?"

"Because I've been through this five times, THAT's why." I still remember the pain, but it was wonderful pain. She doesn't understand how excrutiating pain could be so beautiful and wonderful. But she will.