How the news I'd be a grandma broke my heart

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I’m continually enthralled by the videos on Facebook and YouTube of moms and dads getting the news from their adult children they will soon be grandparents. They’re always thrilled beyond words, often whooping and hollering for lack of any other way of expressing their joy.

For me, the experience was different. In fact, my heart unexpectedly broke into a thousand pieces when my daughter and son-in-law announced they were pregnant, that I would soon become a grandmother.

Megan and Preston chose to share the good news during a Thanksgiving visit. On their first night in town for the holiday, as our family gathered at a local restaurant, my daughter handed my husband a small, wrapped gift then handed a similar one to me.

“How sweet,” I thought, figuring they’d given us new pictures to hang in the house we’d just moved into a week before.

It was pictures, all right—ultrasound pictures in photo frames personalized for each: “Grandpa’s pride and joy” for my husband; “Grandma’s pride and joy” for me.

The unexpected gift threw me off for a minute, then it sunk in. And I began to cry, right there, in public, with dozens of restaurant patrons watching the scene as my husband and I passed our photo frames to our two other daughters as an explanation for the tears, whoops, hollers, and hugs.

Preston and BubbyI was overjoyed. And heartbroken. At the same time. Two feelings I never knew could co-exist—just the first of many “firsts” in my transition from mother to grandmother.

I was overjoyed for obvious reasons. I’M A GRANDMA! I wanted to shout to the room. The heartbreak, though? My heart was broken in a million pieces amidst the joy because nowhere was there mention that my daughter and son-in-law, who lived 819 miles away, would be relocating to be near me—Grandma.

Throughout the holiday weekend, the news was shared with extended family, always with a bittersweet tinge to my tune of happy tidings. Yes! Hallelujah! I was to be a grandma! But how very, very sad that I’d be a long-distance grandma.

I couldn’t be the only long-distance grandma, I consoled myself again and again that holiday weekend and beyond. But how do they survive? How can they function with huge chunks of their hearts living miles upon miles away?

MacI imagined my daughter, upon giving birth, would change her mind and want to move closer to Mom, to Grandma. I figured she’d convince her husband relocation was required and that idea tided me over for the many months of heartache and worry and yearning.

Then came the birth of my grandson. Labor wasn’t scheduled—though I now understand the advantages of doing so…for Grandma’s sake, of course—so booking a flight that would perfectly coincide with the big day was a gamble. A gamble I lost. My daughter and son-in-law managed to get through the delivery of my sweet grandson, though, and I arrived a week later.

The thrill upon meeting my grandson gives me goose bumps and throat lumps to this day. I cried the moment I saw him and took him in my arms. For a week, his little bundle of a body took turns being passed from Mommy to me. Every once in a while we’d share with others—reluctantly, for sure.

Then came time for me to return home. My husband and I headed to the airport with tear-filled eyes and empty arms. Oh, how the longing overtook my being. I didn’t recall ever feeling so lonesome for someone I’d known for such a short time. For someone I’d known ever, for I’d never before had to be apart from those I love the very most.

The word lonesome didn’t come even close to capturing the desolation I felt for weeks after. I thought again and again that there must be something wrong with other long-distance grandmas because they seemed so normal, so functioning, so accepting of the situation.

Megan and MacI railed against the distance far more than my daughter wanted to hear. She and her husband made their home far away, that was where they would stay, and I would just have to deal. Her words, her sentiments. My challenge.

I accepted the challenge as well as possible, with my mouth shut and my feelings to myself as much as I could bear. My daughter and I agreed to visiting, at a minimum, every other month. Either she and the baby would fly to the mountains, or I would fly to the desert. I was fortunate, I told myself; it’s better than some long-distance grandmas get.

After each visit, each extended period of hugging, touching, squeezing, and loving on my grandson, my arms would physically ache to hold him again. At such times I understood the phantom pains of amputees who had lost important, essential parts of their being.

I couldn’t imagine years of such yearning and hoped my daughter and son-in-law would eventually realize what was best for their son—meaning a grandma who lived locally. I was selfish in wanting that, expecting that, justifying my selfishness by pretending my grandson wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I was crazy. I now know that. Crazy in love—an unrequited love—with my grandson. I needed to get a grip.

Slowly I did.

Little by little the distance became easier. Okay, the distance didn’t become any easier, but my acceptance of the circumstances made the distance easier to bear. I stopped focusing on the times we spent apart and looked forward to the times we’d have together. I learned to keep a strong connection with my grandson—and now my second grandson, brother to the first, too—by whatever means I can find: telephone, Internet, postal service.

And I give thanks for the good fortune of being able to visit with my grandsons often, at either my place or theirs.

When you have no other choice, you do your best with what you've been given. Doing your best heals your broken heart.

Today's question:

How did you get the news you'd be a grandparent? If not a grandparent, how did you share the news with your parents?

GRAND Social — Grandparent linky — July 9

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As I wrote the date for today's GRAND Social linky event in the title above, I couldn't help but smile. July 9 is the day my life forever changed, the day the dynamics of my family forever changed, the day twenty-seven years ago my Andrea entered the world and made it a much brighter, much more interesting place to be. Happy birthday to my littlest of girls who is now the tallest of all. I love you, Andie, and hope your day is filled with joy and laughter, as well as a few oh-so-worth-it calories, too.

July 9—this July 9—is also, of course, time for another GRAND Social. If past link-ups here are any indication, our day, too, will be filled with joy and laughter (and more!) as together we read one another's linked posts. Please join me!

How it works:

  • All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, but you must be a grandparent who blogs.
  • Posts shared can be an old one or a recent one, your choice. I like to link up to older posts that current readers likely haven't seen.
  • To link up, copy the direct link to the specific post you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue "Click here to enter" text below and follow the directions to add your post to the list.
  • You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, please, and none you have promoted on a previous GRAND Social linky.
  • No contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites.
  • Adding a mention at the bottom of your linked posts, such as This post has been linked to the GRAND Social blogging event, is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button using the following code:

Grandma’sBriefs.com

<a href="/" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

 

  • The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.
  • If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. All bloggers who link up would be honored to have you click, visit, read and comment.

READERS and PARTICIPATING BLOGGERS: Please visit the posts others have linked to by clicking on the thumbnail photos. Comments are always appreciated by the bloggers whose links you visit, even if it's simply "Hey, stopping by from GRAND Social."

Thank you for participating in the GRAND Social grandparent linky!

Love and marriage: 30 years, 30 reasons

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When Jim and I got married, we were oh-so young, with nearly all odds against us.

That was 30 years ago today.

In honor of our thirtieth wedding anniversary, here are 30 reasons why I think our marriage has lasted—despite the odds, statistics, and predictions:

1. We still celebrate our first-kiss anniversary.

2. When one of us says, "Isn't that the one guy from not that one show but the other one, you know, with that woman we don't like who was in that scary movie, but he's put on a lot of weight since the movie where he was a jerk?", the other one totally gets it...and answers with the actor's name.

3-5. Brianna, Megan, Andrea.

6. We love each other's moms as much as we love our own.

7. I'm willing to go to a Randy Travis concert with him; he's willing to go see Chris Cornell with me.

8. We agree that Flight of the Conchords is funny as <cuss>.

9. And that Saturday Night Live isn't anymore.

10-11. Bubby and Mac.

12. We don't share a bathroom. Or use the bathroom at the same time when we have no choice but to share (like when vacationing).

13. We don't share bank accounts or credit cards either.

14. We do, though, share a mortgage—and the agreement that despite our mortgage doubling when we bought our current house, soon followed by both of us losing our jobs and economic <cuss> reigning ever since, we love our home and it's totally worth it.

15. We agree that if stranded on a desert island with only one album, we'd want it to be Pearl Jam's Ten.

16. We have a spare room available for when insomnia, snoring or restless legs get to be too much for the sleepy non-snorer.

17. In the heat of rage-filled moments, we don't call each other nasty names that can't be taken back. (At least not out loud.)

18. We agree that if when we win the lottery, our moms come first when doling out the dough and that gifts of even amounts will be given to all our siblings, despite a couple of them deserving nothing.

19. I cook, he cleans up after. (Okay...I usually help, just to keep him company).

20. We both clean up after entertaining—and agree that it must be done immediately upon guests leaving, not in the morning, no matter how late the entertaining may have ended or how tired we may be.

21. When one of us screws up our finances—because, despite separate accounts, we are indeed joint—neither one lays blame. (At least not out loud.)

22. We agree a house is not a home without pets. And that those pets shall never again be birds or fish or more than two dogs and two cats at one time.

23. He patiently waits until I compose myself when I get verklempt and can't talk, whether it's when discussing a terminal family member or an unexpectedly delightful package delivery.

24. A few hours into the stonewalling after a disagreement, one of us will apologize—even if we know <cuss> well we're not at fault—just so we'll be friends again.

25. That third strand in our marriage cord stayed strong and kept us together when the other two strands, at various times, frayed, gave up or broke completely.

26. We agree that it's sometimes okay to hit the sack before the news. Or to stay up late on a weeknight because we must see what happens next on a series we're streaming through Netflix.

27. We agree that the majority of Christmas gifts should be opened on Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve.

28. We have similar stranger-than-fiction-and-Jerry-Springer families and histories few others would understand...or believe.

29. We take pride in owning—and aren't willing to pass to others—the title of Longest Married Couple In Our Families (even longer than our older siblings and our parents).

30. We grew up together. Like two intertwined saplings that grow together into big, strong—though entangled—trees, if you try to separate them, one or both will surely die. Or so I've convinced him.

Happy anniversary, Jim. Here's to 30 more years and 30 more reasons!

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

The key to a successful relationship is _________.

Wherein I pat myself on the back and reveal a secret

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I've posted pictures and praise a time or two here on Grandma's Briefs about the accomplishments of my daughters when it comes to races and running. I'm proud of them and their pursuits, and I sincerely wish I could do the same.

On Saturday I came close to exactly that, in a relative sort of way, and I'm pretty darn proud of myself. Hence the "pat myself on the back" part of the title. In order for that pat to make sense to most readers, though, I must first share a secret. Well, it's not really a secret, as I've not hidden it from anyone, I just don't blatantly address it. Most offline friends—and a few online ones—know of my so-called secret. Now you all will.

The secret is this: I have MS. Multiple sclerosis. This coming Sunday—Mother's Day, May 13—marks twenty years since I was diagnosed. I do quite well with it, far better than many, as I was fortunate to end up with the relapsing-remitting form, not the progressive form. In fact, it's been a blessing in my life, to a certain degree, thanks to various things I've learned, changed, accepted because of it.

My MS does not define me, and it's really not important that you know I have it—except when it comes to understanding today's back-patting post.

You see, on Saturday morning I participated in the National MS Society's annual Walk MS event, along with Brianna and Andrea—and Jim, who served as moral support and photographer. I had walked it in 2008 to, in my opinion, rather disastrous results. I finished the walk—finding it far more challenging reaching the finish line than expected, thanks to a dragging foot—but I could not make it to the car afterward. Brianna had to bring the car to me.

Ever since, I've been afraid to attempt the Walk MS event again. Until this year.

In early March, I believe it was, I saw the commercial on TV and immediately texted Brianna and Andrea to ask if they'd join me. They enthusiastically said "yes," and we were off and running. Or, walking. On Saturday.

Saturday's walk featured a one-mile course that continued on for a three-mile course for those who felt up to it. In 2008, the one-mile kicked my butt. This year, I was able to do the entire three-mile course and still managed to walk back to the car, which was nearly another freakin' mile, it seemed, thanks to the thousand or so participants.

Yay for Lisa! Pat, pat, pat on my very own back! I felt like following Baby Mac's lead and babbling, "I did it! I did it!"

Here are highlights:

Not only did I prove I could do it, I thoroughly enjoyed the morning with my daughters as they matched my pace to a military style march much like the one I do when walking my dogs (repeated in my head, not aloud...for the most part). Let me assure you, it's much more fun marching with my girls.

It was a good day.

I just had to share.

Thank you for indulging me.

<pat> <pat> <pat>

Today's question:

What accomplishments have you recently patted yourself on the back for? (And I do hope you have given yourself a pat, no matter how big or small the accomplishment.)

How Grandma sees it: Changes in parenting from the firstborn to the second

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Bubby, my first grandson, at nine months old:

Baby hair everywhere.

 Baby Mac, my second grandson, at nine months old:

Baby hair buzzed.

 To be continued ... !

Today's question:

When did you last cut someone else's hair and how did it turn out?

First crushes

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It saddened me to find out Davey Jones had passed away. He was the first star I ever had a real crush on. (Though Tom Jones was a close second, I must admit.) Unfortunately, I have no posters from the past to remember him by. In all honesty, I don't think I was even old enough to have posters on my bedroom wall at the time that I swooned over Davey.

While Davey may have been my first celebrity crush, my first forever crush was on someone else. I do, thankfully, have a poster of him:

That is my own personal rock star.

That is Jim.

Husband to me. Dad to my amazing daughters. PawDad to my awesome grandsons.

That's Jim as he looked 31 years ago, when I very first crushed on him.

The groovy colors weren't part of the original photo, of course.

I added those yesterday.

Because I still have a crush on him.

And crushes make you do crazy things.

And because I wanted a groovy photo to add to his birthday post.

Today is Jim's birthday.

Thirty-one years later, Jim is still my rock star.

Thirty-one years later, Jim is still my one and only forever crush.

Happy birthday, Jim.

The voting continues: If you liked this post—or Grandma's Briefs in general—please vote for Grandma's Briefs in the About.com Favorite Grandparent Blog poll. Vote once per day through March 21. Thank you!

Today's question:

What posters or pictures did you have on your bedroom wall as a teen?

Grandma told ya so...

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Remember this picture of Baby Mac I posted on February 12?

At that time, I said I thought Mac would be running marathons by the time I saw him again in April.

Well, he's clearly one step closer. Get a load of this cell-phone video Megan texted to proud PawDad and Gramma on Tuesday:

Today, March 1, Baby Mac is 9 months old. And he's walking. In addition, he has both front teeth on the bottom, and he's working on his first front tooth on the top.

What is up with this kid?

I'm a little scared to mention it for fear this prediction might come true, too, but I think Baby Mac just might be caught up and ready to enter kindergarten at the very same time as big brother Bubby.

The voting continues: If you liked this post—or Grandma's Briefs in general—please vote for Grandma's Briefs in the About.com Favorite Grandparent Blog poll. Vote once per day through March 21. Thank you!

Today's question:

When and where did you last go for a walk, for pleasure or exercise?

Give Grandma a sign

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My 8-month-old grandson is a genius. Sort of.

With Bubby ahead of him by almost exactly three years, Baby Mac does his darnedest to keep up with his brother, to reach major baby milestones in record time. And he's succeeding, for the most part.

I showed you not long ago that Baby Mac already nearly walks, sort of, and will surely soon be in full-fledged, fully upright, forward motion soon.

Baby Mac already talks, too. Sort of. With baby sign language, at least.

I always thought the baby sign language trend was a heap o' hooey. Until, that is, I saw it in action with Baby Mac.

To bring you up to speed on what I'm babbling about, here are a few basic baby sign language signs:

Megan taught Baby Mac how to sign all done, and he now signs it often—and adamantly. He lets one and all know when he's all done with his food, all done with being held, all done with his nap, all done with staying where he's supposed to be staying in the bathtub, playroom, any room.

Baby Mac has all done down so well, he actually has started saying it. Verbally. Literally. When he feels his sign method isn't getting the desired action, Baby Mac babbles "ah dah, ah dah, AH DAH!" Baby Mac leaves no doubt when he's all done—with anything. Chalk it up to signing.

Megan's working on more with him, too. Not just more phrases, but the actual word "more", mostly in reference to more food of some sort, so Baby Mac can make it clear that his lack of attention to what's on the spoon held in front of his face has nothing to do with satiety and everything to do with wanting to watch anything and everything that's going on around him at all times. He understands "more" but has yet to actually sign it. Considering his level of genius, though, I'm sure that reflects purely on Baby Mac's lack of fine motor skills, not his mental acuity.

There are plenty of other words and phrases, too, that would benefit Baby Mac—and his family—such as hungry, brother, mommy, daddy, change diaper, and I-seriously-need-attention-paid-to-me-and-only-me-right-now-at-this-very-moment. Oh, wait. He has that last one down already and holds back not one bit in expressing it loud and clear, sans hand signals of any sort.

I personally am pushing for Baby Mac to start using the grandma sign. I get to visit my grandsons again in April. When I do, if I'm greeted by Baby Mac with smiles and the sign for "grandma," that is when I'll know for sure that little butterball of a baby boy is a true genius. Or, at the very least, that he adores his grandma.

Which, of course, is more than enough to qualify him as a genius in this grandma's book.

Today's question:

What is your experience with sign language, baby or otherwise?